


New Neighbors

by Marathon_Zack_140_6



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Dursleys Make an Appearance, F/M, Hogwarts Express, Humor, Implied Mrs Weasley Bashing, Pre-Hogwarts, Ron Weasley Bashing, Severus Snape Bashing, Troll - Freeform, twins are awesome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2019-10-03 19:50:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17290313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marathon_Zack_140_6/pseuds/Marathon_Zack_140_6
Summary: A bushy-haired eleven year-old witch and her family move in next door to Harry during the summer before their first year at Hogwarts. [HARMONY, but it's 1st year, so it's not what would be considered romantic. Basic canon is assumed to start with. Ron/Molly/Ginny/Snape-bashing. Twins are cool.]Book 1 finished. On indefinite hiatus.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I'm sure this idea has been done plenty of times before over the years, but here's my (hopefully) humorous version of what might have happened if Hermione had moved in next door to Harry during the summer before Hogwarts. Completely canon compliant through the first 5 chapters of Philosopher's/Sorcerer's Stone, and assumes continued canon anywhere where it wouldn't obviously differ due to the events of this story.
> 
> Disclaimer: Any dialogue that seems like it's from the book — Is probably from the book.

_Hagrid helped Harry on to the train that would take him back to the Dursleys, then handed him an envelope._

_"Yer ticket fer Hogwarts," he said. "First o' September — King's Cross — it's all on yer ticket. Any problems with the Dursleys, send me a letter with yer owl, she'll know where to find me... See yeh soon, Harry."_

_The train pulled out of the station. Harry wanted to watch Hagrid until he was out of sight; he rose in his seat and pressed his nose against the window, but he blinked and Hagrid had gone._

~HP~HP~HP~

The following morning, Harry walked down the stairs from his room (or Dudley's old second room, as any of the Dursleys would have referred to it as had you desired to ask them), heading towards the kitchen in search of something to eat. Since the Dursleys had discovered that he was in fact a wizard, and would soon be going to wizarding school, they had been completely avoiding him. Dudley ran and hid every time Harry entered the room, and his aunt and uncle acted as if he didn't exist. While it was something of an improvement over how he'd been treated most of the summer (and his life, for that matter), he knew it would quickly become depressing, long before he could board the train for his new school.

Walking down the hall, he passed his uncle coming from the kitchen. Harry just barely was able to jump against the wall to avoid being ran into by his uncle, who was taking his job of pretending Harry didn't exist very seriously. But just as his uncle passed by the front door, there came a light, but firm knock. Harry stopped in the middle of the hallway, wondering who could be knocking at this time in the morning.

His uncle was apparently just as surprised, because instead of shooing Harry out of sight, like he normally did any time visitors came over, keeping in line with the whole 'Harry doesn't exist' thing his aunt and uncle had been doing since they took Harry in, Mr Dursley simply opened the door.

At first, Mr Dursley stared around, wondering who had knocked, before he looked slightly lower. A bushy-haired girl about Harry's height and age stood on the stoop, smiling up at Mr Dursley.

"Hi, my name is Hermione!" she greeted warmly with a bright smile, offering her hand, which Mr Dursley promptly ignored. Unperturbed, she continued, "I just moved in next door, and saw you had a boy who looked about my age, so I came over to say hi. Ah, there he is," she added, as she spotted Harry standing in the hallway.

The girl gave an enthusiastic wave, which Harry returned with a small, awkward wave of his own. No one had ever came looking for him before. Unless they were Dudley's friends and were wanting to beat him up, which somehow didn't really count in Harry's mind.

It was a true sign of how befuddled Mr Vernon was that he just stood there, gaping like a giant whale out of water (if whales breathed water instead of air).

And before Mr Dursley could come to his irritable senses, the girl said to Harry, "So what's your name?"

Harry crept closer to the door, curious about this complete stranger who seemed to actually be interested in _him_.

"Harry."

"Well, Harry," said the girl, with another radiant smile that only a Dursley could dislike, "my mother said I could invite you over for breakfast. If that's okay with you, Mr Dursley," she added, looking up at Harry's uncle.

Mr Dursley just kind of nodded mutely, clearly at a loss for words. So before his uncle could realize what he had agreed to, Harry slipped out the door. The girl bounced down the walk, with Harry following close behind her.

Hearing the door shut behind them, Harry said, "So you're Hermione?"

* * *

"They're actually my aunt and uncle," said Harry, staring at the overflowing plate Mrs Granger had set in front of him. It looked like more food than he typically was given in several days by the Dursleys. "My last name's actually Potter."

Hermione froze, a forkful of sausage halfway to her mouth.

" _The_ Harry Potter?" she said, staring at him in disbelief. "Like, lightning-shaped scar on your forehead, Harry Potter?"

Harry brushed his hair out of the way, revealing the scar. "You know about this world?"

"Yes!" she exclaimed excitedly. "I just found out when I got my letter a few days ago. It was such a surprise, nobody in my family's ever had magic before. I got all my school books and supplies and a bunch of other books from Diagon Alley three days ago. I haven't had a chance to completely read through all of them yet, but I've read all about you. You're in _Modern Magical History_ and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century…_ "

Harry just stared at her for a few seconds, before replying, "I just found out I was a wizard the night before last. I skimmed through a couple of my books last night, but haven't really looked at them yet."

"We can read them together!" said Hermione excitedly, digging into her breakfast with renewed fervor.

* * *

Harry's last month with the Dursleys was fun. Owing, of course, entirely to the fact that he spent almost all of his time when he wasn't sleeping over at Hermione's house. They would have spent some of this time at Harry's house as well, but as his aunt and uncle had no interest in having someone who was friends with Harry, and just Harry, over at the house, even if Harry and Hermione were both smart enough not to tell them that she was also magical, they remained firmly planted on Granger territory. And the Dursleys did nothing to discourage this new pastime of Harry's, because in the Dursleys' mind, any time Harry was not in the house was — though of course they would never use this particular expression — quite magical.

Harry and Hermione spent a large portion of their time reading their spellbooks and practicing simple spells, but Hermione also had Harry show her around the neighborhood. It was the first time Harry had ever felt wanted and appreciated.

By the time September 1st arrived, Harry felt fairly confident to start his first year of magical training. While he hadn't read through all of his books at least three times and completely memorized them like Hermione had, he _had_ read them all cover to cover, and was able to do several of the spells at the beginning of each book. He had also started reading Hermione's favorite magical non-textbook, _Hogwarts, A History_ , though he was only about halfway through it so far. He hoped he'd have time to read more of it on the train ride to Hogwarts, which from what he'd read in the book took the entire afternoon, and part of the evening.

Harry knew he wasn't as advanced as Hermione was, who seemed to pick up everything naturally despite not coming from a magical family, but he hoped he would at least be able to keep up the kids who were born into magical families.

As he was leaving the Grangers' house on the 31st, Hermione's mom asked him if he'd like to go with them to King's Cross the following morning, saving the Dursleys from having to make the trip. Harry immediately accepted, having been worrying for some time about having to ask his uncle to take him to the train station on the first. When he got back to his house, he said to his uncle as he passed through the living room, "The Grangers are going to take me to the train station in the morning." Uncle Vernon merely grunted, which Harry took to be his acceptance of the arrangements.

* * *

The following morning, Harry walked over to Hermione's with his trunk, and Hedwig in her cage. After another hearty breakfast, they left the house, arriving at King's Cross station at ten o'clock, plenty of time before the train was to leave at eleven.

Having read _Hogwarts, A History_ , they knew to reach Platform Nine and Three-Quarters they had to walk through the seemingly solid barrier between platforms nine and ten. Grabbing her mom's hand, Hermione ran through the barrier before the older female Granger knew what was happening, disappearing as they got to the barrier. Giving each other a slightly apprehensive glance, Harry and Mr Granger followed a second later, appearing on the other side on a gleaming platform station, a scarlet steam engine waiting for them.

Hermione immediately rushed towards the train with her trunk to store it in an empty carriage. Harry followed her, and they found an empty compartment near the back, where they stored their trunks and Hedwig's cage, before walking back onto the platform, which was beginning to get busy.

Fifteen minutes to eleven, Hermione gave both her parents a hug and a kiss, before hopping back on board the train. Harry was about to follow her, when Mrs Granger swept him up in a hug, the first Harry could ever remember receiving. As she let him go, wishing him a good school year and telling him to write and let them know how it was going, Mr Granger shook his hand and said, "Take care of Hermione, and hopefully we'll see you for Christmas."

Harry climbed on the train, quickly finding the carriage he and Hermione had picked out. Opening the window, they both waved at Mom and Dad Granger.

Five minutes before the train was scheduled to depart, six redheads rushed onto the platform in pairs, out of breath. The first two, twins, who looked a couple years older than Harry and Hermione, scurried towards the train near where Harry and Hermione were. The oldest child, a pompous looking sort, strolled up self-importantly to the front of the train. They didn't see where the last two children went, as at that moment the twins burst into the compartment behind them.

"You're _him_ , aren't you!?" exclaimed the redhead.

"Of course he is, how many other people have lightning scars on their forehead?" replied the other redhead.

"Who?" asked Harry, though he expected he already knew the answer.

"Harry Potter!" said the taller twin.

"The Boy Who Lived!" said his equally tall brother at the same time.

"Oh, yeah," replied Harry.

"He's Fred!"

"And he's George!"

"We're the Weasleys!"

"Hermione Granger," said Hermione, holding out her hand.

"Pleased to meet you," both of the twins chimed enthusiastically, shaking her hand in turn.

"See you around," said the one who might have been Fred, or possibly George.

"Hope you're both in Gryffindor," added the one who was probably George, but was just as likely Fred.

Both of them breezed out as quickly as they had come in, and Harry and Hermione were alone once again.

As they had been talking to the twins, the train had started rolling. About ten minutes after the twins had left, the door to their compartment opened again, and the youngest redhead on the train stuck his head in.

"Anyone sitting here?" he asked.

"Come on in," replied Hermione in her normal enthusiastic voice. "I'm Hermione Granger, and this is Harry Potter. We just met your bothers Fred and George a few minutes ago."

" _The_ Harry Potter?" blurted out the boy, staring at Harry's forehead, where the scar was currently covered by Harry's unruly mess of black hair.

Hermione was about to ask him his name, when the twins burst back into the compartment.

"Hey Ron, hi again Harry, Hermione," they said in greeting, sitting down, one next to Harry and Hermione, the other on Ron's side of the compartment. "You two know any magic yet?"

"A little," answered Hermione shyly, before Harry interrupted her.

"Don't listen to her, she's really good. She can already do like half of everything in our school books, and she's only been practicing for a month."

From the excitement on their faces, the twins were clearly impressed. Ron, on the other hand, merely scowled and sank deeper into his chair.

"Harry is really good, too," interjected Hermione.

"All right, both of you do something to these two frisbees," said one of the twins, pulling two growling, snapping frisbees out of his pockets.

But just as Harry was about to Charm one of them into tap dancing, and Hermione was about to transfigure the other into a coaster, the eldest of the Weasleys still at Hogwarts burst in uninvited.

"No magic on the train!" he exclaimed, waving wildly at Harry and Hermione's wands. "And Fanged Frisbees are banned, give me those!" he continued, snatching the two frisbees out of his brother's hand, receiving several small bites for his efforts (from the frisbees, not his brother). "I am a prefect, and will not tolerate my own siblings breaking the school rules."

"Oh, are you a prefect, Percy?" said the twin who was sitting across from Harry and Hermione, with an air of great surprise. "You should have said something, we had no idea."

"Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it," said the other twin. "Once—"

"Or twice—"

"A minute—"

"All summer—"

Percy merely scowled, sweeping out of the compartment with one last glare.

"Our brother's a prefect, in case you hadn't gathered," explained Fred seriously, looking at Harry and Hermione.

"Or as we prefer to say it, a pompous arse," added George.

From the few minutes they'd seen of him, Harry and Hermione had to agree, though Hermione never would have admitted it out loud.

* * *

Much later that evening, they were being marched into the Great Hall, about to be sorted into their Houses.

While they had been waiting in the empty chamber for Professor McGonagall to return, Harry had heard Ron telling anyone who would listen that they had to do some sort of painful test to be sorted into their houses. Harry knew from reading _Hogwarts, A History_ that that was a complete load of hogwash, but before he could do more than stare at the boy, who came from a wizarding family and really should know better, Professor McGonagall had returned.

Standing in front of the four house tables, Hermione's name was called before Harry's was. Leaning over to Harry before she walked up to the four-legged stool, she whispered, "Hope to see you in Gryffindor."

A few seconds later, the hat shouted "GRYFFINDOR", and Hermione bounded over to the Gryffindor table, sitting down next to the twins who enthusiastically congratulated her.

When Harry's name was finally called, it took the hat a bit longer to shout out "GRYFFINDOR", as it argued with Harry on the benefits and detriments between Slytherin and Gryffindor. But the hat had finally relented, and the Gryffindor table exploded with celebration at getting the Boy-Who-Lived. The twins, Gred and Forge, had taken up a war chant to the tune of "We got Potter! We got Potter!" that quickly spread throughout the table (with, of course, the exception of Prefect Percy, who thought such things highly unbecoming of a prefect like himself). Harry walked to the Gryffindor table, drastically relieved that he'd gotten in the same house as Hermione, and that they'd both gotten in the same house as the twins. As soon as the hat had exclaimed "GRYFFINDOR", Hermione had leapt up from her seat, and as soon as Harry got close enough, she engulfed him in a hug, nearly knocking him down. Together they sat back down next to the twins, who were still whisper-chanting "We got Potter! We got Potter!". Harry's future was certainly looking up.

* * *

Harry's optimistic outlook on the future lasted all the way until Friday, when they had their first double Potions class with Slytherin. Due to either a gross oversight, or else malevolent intent by whomever decided the school schedules, Harry and the rest of his Gryffindor classmates were doomed to have double Potions with Slytherin for all five years of required potions classes during their Hogwarts schooling. Fortunately for the school, though, none of them were aware of this negligence in rotating class doubles, or that particular Gryffindor class might have shrunk drastically after having to endure their first of several hundred torturous sessions with the Head of Slytherin House and the only students he didn't actively loath, but rather favored in a manner truly disgraceful for a teacher.

They had just sat down and had roll call when Professor Snape decided to show (for lack of a better description, since in real life he never wore anything but black, to match his hair and soul) his true colors for the first (but certainly not last) time.

"Potter!" he snapped suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"You would get a potion called the Draught of Living Death, Sir."

Snape's lips curled into a sneer. "Tut, tut — fame clearly isn't everything."

Harry stared at him in confusion; that was the only potion he could think of that added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

"Bezoars are found in the stomachs of goats, Professor."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?"

Harry forced himself to keep looking straight into those cold black eyes. He knew he'd just read the other day that Bezoars were stones found in goat stomachs.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"They are the same plant, Sir."

This one Harry knew for certain he was correct on, because he'd read on the train ride up to Hogwarts the story of how that particular plant had come to have three names.

"What a waste," said Snape, slowly shaking his head. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a super-powerful sleeping potion; a bezoar is a stone that will save you from most poisons; as for monkshood and wolfsbane, they also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

Hermione stared at Snape completely bumfuzzled. Everything Harry had said was completely true; and the "correct" answers Snape had just given them weren't even answers to the questions he had asked. Not to mention the fact that the Draught of Living Death wasn't even attempted until sixth year, when it would still be more complex than anything they would have attempted up until that point.

Despite the seeming impossibility of it, the class only got worse from there.

* * *

However, due to having grown up under the reign of the Dursleys, Harry was much more adept at surviving unfair treatment than most, and was generally pleased with being at Hogwarts (with the notable exception of Friday mornings, spent in the dungeons).

It was Halloween evening, and he and Hermione were sitting together at the Feast. They had both easily aced their Charms lesson that morning, as it was another charm they'd practiced and learned together over the summer; _Wingardium Leviosa_. As they waited for the feast to start, they had the salt and pepper shakers flying, trying to knock each other out of the air. Hermione was clearly winning, but so far Harry had managed to keep his shaker from being crashed to the table. The twins had volunteered to try sending minor jinxes and hexes at their flying cutlery, but Harry had declined their offer to make their levitated tableware battle a little more challenging.

A ways down the table sat the youngest redhead, glaring sulkily at them. He'd tried to ridicule Hermione for her know-it-all-ness as they had all walked from class to the Great Hall for lunch, but it was kind of negated by the fact Harry could also do the charm with ease, and the fact everyone else in the class was impressed by Harry and Hermione's skill. And instead of running for the bathroom crying like she might had if she hadn't had any friends, Hermione merely turned to Harry, who she was walking next to, and said, "I bet I can keep my plate of food hovering in the air while we eat longer than you can." And now the two showoffs were showing off once again, having the flatware brawl whilst in flight.

The feast had just appeared when a more terrified than normal Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the Great Hall, gasping "Troll — in the dungeons — thought you ought to know.", before collapsing into a pathetic heap on the floor. As Harry and Hermione were shuffled back to the Gryffindor common room with all their fellow Gryffindorians, they saw Ron slip away, heading back towards the Dungeons.

"Oh, that idiot's going to get himself killed," whispered Hermione.

"I bet he's trying to prove he's all tough after completely failing at levitating this morning," whispered Harry back. "I suppose we ought to go rescue him."

Harry and Hermione ducked down the next corridor, following Ron. As they rounded another corner, they heard, "Oi! Troll! Over here!", before seeing Ron duck into the girl's bathroom on his right.

The twelve-foot, lumpy troll lumbered into the bathroom after him, swinging its club haphazardly. Harry and Hermione broke into a run, covering the length of the hallway in record time. The troll had just lifted its club when the duo burst into the bathroom behind it. They could see Ron cowering in the corner, staring wide-eyed and terrified at the monstrosity before him. But before the troll could attempt to deliver its blow, Harry and Hermione yelled " _Wingardium Leviosa_ ", both of their wands pointed at the troll's club. The club, which was directly above the troll's head when the two incantations were exclaimed, rose towards the ceiling, floating ominously above the troll's thick skull.

Though the troll hadn't noticed the sudden presence of two new wizards on the scene, it did notice when its club left its hand without its permission. Blinking stupidly, the troll looked up to see where its club had gotten off too, and at that same moment, the witch and wizard both relinquished their spells, allowing the club to follow its own preferred course of action, falling straight down, directly between the eyes of the oblivious troll, who had wasted its entire childhood pillaging and plundering, instead of learning about a little thing called "gravity". The club connected with its former owner's head with a sickening crack, and several tons of ugly, smelly troll came crashing to the floor with a thud that shook the room.

"We should get out of here," whispered Hermione to Harry quickly, and the two of them skedaddled out of the room before any teachers could find them, leaving Ron alone with the knocked out troll.

"You know he's going to make up some story about how he defeated the troll single-handedly," said Harry as they walked back up to the Gryffindor common room.

"Let him," replied Hermione. "Anyone who's seen him try to perform magic will know there's no way he could have possibly taken on a full-grown mountain troll. After all, not many first year students could."

Giving the Fat Lady the password, they joined their housemates in their common room to finish the feast that had been so rudely interrupted by the odiferous, blundering beast (the troll, not Professor Quirrell).

And from that moment forward, Harry and Hermione were inseparable. Fighting a troll together had solidified their bond in a way very few things can.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Given the interest in this story, I am going to attempt to continue it. But fair warning, I don't know how long it will go for, and updates will be infrequent.
> 
> A/N 2: Not as happy with this chapter as the first one, but staring at it on my computer wasn't fixing anything, so I finally decided to just to publish it. I feel like I rushed a few things, but I'm trying to avoid just repeating what JK wrote on scenes that wouldn't really change, while still giving enough background so that it flows.
> 
> A/N 3: I don't typically like flashbacks, but once I decided to try and continue this story, I realized I needed Harry and Hermione to discover Fluffy, but that was supposed to have taken place prior to the Halloween Feast. Hence a flashback.
> 
> Disclaimer: As always, if you recognize it, t'ain't mine.
> 
> Now enough rambling, and on to the story.

"Our dear brother's embellished his story even more," whispered a voice in Harry's ear.

Harry looked up from his Potions homework at the younger twin, who'd sat down at the table next to him.

"You should really take a listen, its quite entertaining. He's now levitated _himself_ across the bathroom to attack the _twenty_ foot tall troll."

Ever since Harry and Hermione had left Ron alone with the knocked-out troll three days earlier, Ron's story about how he had defeated the troll single-handedly had grown like an Engorgement Charm had been placed on it. What had started out as merely taking credit for what Harry and Hermione had actually done, had drastically developed into a downright death defying dual doubtlessly deserving distinguished adulation; a bit more than anyone could believe out of a lazy first year who was near the bottom of his classes.

However, the truth remained that a full-grown mountain troll _had_ been knocked out by someone other than a teacher, and rumors quickly began to spread on who that someone (or someones) might be. Once it became common knowledge that no one had seen Harry and Hermione in the Gryffindor common room during the incident (a rumor helped along by the twins), people quickly began speculating that the intrepid duo had been the ones to actually defeat the troll on Halloween night. While it was inconceivable to think that Ron had conquered a gnat, let alone a troll, people knew that out of all the first years, Harry and Hermione might actually be smart enough to defeat a troll together.

But the youngest redhead still always had a captive audience every time he retold his great adventure, simply because people wanted to know how he'd embellished the tale even more this time around. Ron, however, hadn't seemed to notice that people didn't actually believe his stories, as he was still strutting around the castle like a hero.

The other twin dropped into the open seat across from Harry and the first twin, next to Hermione.

"It's almost up to par with the rumors we've been spreading about our own adventure of discovering Fluffy."

Hermione sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes; she had been trying really hard to forget about that minor excursion/nightmare.

**Flashback**

The twins plopped down on either side of Harry and Hermione at the Gryffindor table during supper. School had been in for a week and a half, and Harry and Hermione (and the rest of the Gryffindor and Slytherin first years) had just had their first flying lesson; or nearly had it, as before they could do any actual flying, Neville had taken off early and promptly broken his arm from a twenty foot fall, having to be taken to the hospital by Madam Hooch. But in the ensuing lack of professor, Harry and Draco had had an aerial battle with Neville's Remembrall that landed Harry on the Gryffindor Quidditch team as the youngest player in a century.

Not long after the twins had sat down, congratulating Harry on making the team, Harry's least favorite schoolmate sauntered up, with his two lumbering lackeys in his wake.

"Enjoying your last meal, Potter?" drawled Malfoy.

"I don't recall you being this brave when you didn't have your little flunkies with you up in the air," retorted Harry, not bothering to look around.

"Oh please, I don't need them. I'd take you on one on one anytime," sneered Malfoy.

Fred spun around to face Malfoy directly, and said, "Wizard's Dual, tonight. You versus our dear friend Potter."

"Hermione will be his second," chimed in George, turning to face the intruder as well.

"Midnight, trophy room," replied Malfoy. "Crabbe's my second." And with that, the evil trio swaggered off, back to their own table.

Harry and Hermione had been too stunned by the discussion to say anything until Malfoy had already walked away. They had both, of course, read all about wizard duals; but knowing about them, and being volunteered for one were completely different things.

"I can't dual," exclaimed Harry in a whispered hiss.

Before Hermione could add in her opposition to the arrangement, Fred cut in, "Neither can he, you'll be fine. Anyway, you're not actually going to be fighting."

"Most likely, he'll chicken out and not even show up," continued George. "But if he does, my slightly less attractive brother and I will be hiding, so all you have to do is wave your wand and yell anything really loudly, and we'll cast the charms. The git will never know what hit him."

Hermione frowned at them. "But we'll still be out way past hours; we'll be in a lot of trouble if we get caught. And while losing house points doesn't really matter, since everyone knows that Dumbledore'll find some way at the very last minute to give Gryffindor enough points to make sure Harry wins the House cup, I'd still rather not have to serve detention in the meantime."

"Oh please," replied the equally attractive twin, "we know this school better than anyone else ever has; we won't get caught."

At 11:30 that evening, the four of them crept out of the portrait hole. It only took them ten minutes to make it over to the trophy room, but the twins wanted to make sure they got there in plenty of time to find suitable hiding places. The twins had quickly found hiding spots, and the four of them awaited the arrival of Slytherin's foulest.

Midnight came and went with no appearance of a certain two first years. The twins were just creeping out of their hiding places to head back to their tower, when the quartet heard in the next room their third least favorite voice in the castle, and their absolutely least favorite when they were wandering around the castle at midnight.

"They have to be here somewhere," Filch muttered. "Sniff them out, my precious."

Harry, Hermione, Fred, and George bolted out of the trophy room, away from Filch's voice. But when they had gotten out into the hallway, they suddenly heard a voice ahead of them, and realized that Filch must have gone back out into the hallway instead of into the trophy room as they had expected. And after that, whether it was that they lost their heads, or that Filch was trying to catch them, or that some magic in the castle had come to life and was chasing them, they seemed to find themselves being followed everywhere until at last they found themselves slamming into a locked door at the end of a one-way corridor, with the sound of footsteps approaching ever nearer.

Hermione grabbed Harry's wand from his hand, since it was easier to get to than her own wand in her robe, and tapped the lock, whispering " _Alohomora_."

The lock clicked and the door swung open — they piled through it, and Hermione swiftly, but quietly closed the door behind them.

As Hermione listened for Filch to leave, Harry took his wand back from Hermione and turned around to get a better look at their hiding place. Muttering " _Lumos_ ," he held his wand out high in front of him. Straight into a large, wet, _slobbery_ something. Pulling his hand back slightly, he got a full view of their hiding-spot mate.

"Um, guys...?" he said slowly. "I think we might want to take our chances with Filch."

Hermione and the twins slowly turned around. Only to come face to face with a monstrous three-headed dog that Harry had nearly stuck his wand up one of its nostrils mere seconds before. Needless to say, the animal was not wagging its tail in a playful manner.

"So this is why the right-hand side of the third-floor corridor is out of bounds this year!" exclaimed the twin on the right excitedly.

"Normally I would be jumping for joy with you at such a discovery," replied the twin on the left, "but this time I'm going to have to simply comment — RUN!"

Hermione, who had just frozen at the sight of the beast, led the charge back into the hallway when she heard "RUN!".

Filch, however, had apparently gone elsewhere to look for them, because he was nowhere to be seen as they rushed back down the corridor; not that any of them noticed this minor fact in their haste.

They didn't stop their sprint until they had tumbled into the Gryffindor common room mere minutes later. Collapsing into the arm chairs, they continued to pant for several minutes.

Finally catching his breath, the less out of breath twin said, "Well, that was quite an adventure."

"I couldn't agree more," replied his brother after a few more seconds of heavy breathing. "Though not the adventure I had been expecting to have."

"Forget the adventure!" exclaimed Hermione. "Didn't any of you see what that beast was standing on!?"

"I was _kinda_ too busy staring at its mouths to look at its feet," retorted Harry, who had been starting to feel left out of the conversation.

"It was standing on a trapdoor."

**END FLASHBACK**

"Wait... _You're_ the ones who have been spreading the rumors about a couple first-years nearly getting devoured by a five-headed dragon?" asked Hermione, looking back up at the twins in surprise.

"If you rely on others to spread the rumors, they're never nearly impressive enough."

"But if you're the ones spreading the rumors, why wouldn't you include yourselves in the rumors?" said Hermione in confusion. "I would have thought you'd like yourselves included in any great adventure."

"It's hard to say 'I heard...' when you include yourself in the story. And anyway, teachers might come asking us awkward questions if they heard our names connected to any great adventure of the less than rule-abiding variety."

"So you get the whole castle talking about the ferocious beast locked up on the third-floor corridor and how some someones barely escaped from it, and let the castle fill in the blanks as to who," said Harry, nodding thoughtfully.

"Precisely. It's a lot more fun that way once the rumors finally make it back around to us."

* * *

After the three-headed dog and the troll, Harry was thankful that the remaining two months of the term passed as quietly as a term at magic school could be expected to pass, with only one more day of major excitement.

On the second Saturday of November, Harry played in his first Quidditch match. After nearly being thrown off his broom by a jinx before being saved by Hermione as she successfully lit Snape on fire despite nearly tripping over Quirrell, Harry had caught the snitch with his mouth, winning the match for Gryffindor; making him not only the youngest Hogwarts Quidditch player in a century, but also the first seeker in four centuries to make the winning catch with his mouth; and the first in history to ever do so in their first match.

And as if that wasn't enough excitement for the day, while visiting Hagrid's after the match, Hagrid had let slip to Harry and Hermione that the name of the three-headed dog they had discovered was Fluffy, and he was guarding something owned by Nicholas Flamel. However, at that point Hagrid had realized what he was saying, and with his normal "I shouldn't have said that…I should not have said that" had stopped talking.

Remembering the break-in at Gringotts over the summer that had been reported by the Daily Prophet, combined with Harry's memory of Hagrid taking a small package out of vault seven hundred and thirteen the day Hagrid had taken Harry to Diagon Alley, they made the assumption that whatever was in that vault was what was now being stored at Hogwarts, guarded by Fluffy.

But despite spending all their free time in the library trying to figure out who Flamel was, and what Dumbledore was hiding for him, it was to no avail. They couldn't find the slightest reference to Flamel in any of the books they looked through, and as the only thing they knew about the package was that it was only a few inches long, they hadn't the slightest idea what it could be.

* * *

Harry and Hermione were eating breakfast in the Great Hall two weeks before the end of term, when Professor McGonagall walked up.

"I'm taking names of all the students who are staying over Christmas break. I assume you'll be staying, Potter?"

Harry was about to say "yes" when Hermione exclaimed, "I completely forgot to tell you. My parents invited you to stay with us for Christmas. If you want to, of course," she added hastily.

Harry looked back and forth between Hermione and Professor McGonagall.

"It's your choice, Potter. You can stay here or go home with Miss Granger."

Looking back over at Hermione, Harry asked, "Are you sure? I don't want to be a bother."

"Of course!" replied Hermione. "We have a spare bedroom and everything you can stay in while you're with us."

"If you're sure," said Harry, before looking back up at Professor McGonagall. "I'll go with Hermione."

Two weeks later, Harry and Hermione boarded the Hogwarts Express for London. The twins had wished Harry and Hermione a Merry Christmas as they left the castle, as the twins (and their two brothers) were staying at Hogwarts over Christmas since their parents were traveling to Romania to visit Charlie, the dragon keeping Weasley.

The train was fairly crowded, as the majority of students went home for Christmas, but it wasn't as crowded as the train ride in September had been, and Harry and Hermione had no trouble finding a compartment to themselves. Hermione cast a quick locking charm on the door so that Malfoy and his cronies couldn't burst in uninvited, and the two of them settled in, reading their favorite books.

A few hours into the ride, Neville came by, and knocked lightly on their compartment door. Hermione quickly unlocked the door, allowing Neville to come in.

"Lose your toad again?" she asked kindly.

"No, I left him at Hogwarts. Well, actually, I couldn't find him in time to bring him." Then Neville blushed slightly, and rushed on in a much shyer voice, "I was actually wondering if you two could help me with a couple spells I've really been struggling with in class."

"Oh," exclaimed Hermione in surprise. Other than Harry, it was the first time anyone had ever asked her for help with spellwork. Most of their classmates were too busy calling her a know-it-all bookworm.

"You two are clearly at the top of all our classes," continued Neville in a stronger voice, "and I thought if anyone could help, it would be you two."

Before Hermione could be modest and say something about not knowing if they were _really_ the best in their year, Harry quickly said, "Of course we'll help you practice. What spells were you thinking about?"

The rest of the train ride passed by quickly as the three of them practiced the spells that had been giving Neville the most trouble. At one point, the Slytherin trio had slithered by, but after several minutes of failing to break in, they skulked away, each giving the Gryffindor trio a rude hand gesture as a parting Christmas gift. By the time the Hogwarts Express pulled into Kings Cross Station, Neville had become much more confident in his spellcasting.

Debarking the train, Harry and Hermione quickly spotted Mr and Mrs Granger, and hurried over. Mrs Granger swept Hermione up in her arms, as Mr Granger shook Harry's hand and asked, "How was school? Learn anything magical?"

Hermione spent the car ride to Privet Drive regaling her parents with everything they'd done over the term. When Hermione told them all about the first Quidditch match, Harry joined in the discussion briefly, but other than that, mostly just let Hermione talk. However, while listening to Hermione tell her parents everything, Harry noticed she was suspiciously quiet about their less rule-abiding extracurricular activities, especially those involving trolls, and three-headed dogs named Fluffy.

* * *

Christmas morning, Harry woke up early, and walked down to the living room. The first thing he saw was a small pile of packages next to the tree that clearly had his name on them.

"Merry Christmas," said Hermione sleepily as she walked into the living room, and gave him a hug from behind.

"You, too," said Harry. "I've got presents!"

"Of course you do," replied Hermione, turning to her own pile. "You have friends now, Harry."

Harry picked up the top parcel, which was wrapped in thick brown paper. Scrawled across the top was _To Harry, from Hagrid_. Opening it, Harry found a roughly cut wooden flute that Hagrid had obviously whittled himself. Harry blew it — it sounded a bit like an owl.

The second parcel, a very small one, contained a note.

 _We received your message and enclose your Christmas present. From Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia._ Taped to the note was a fifty-pence piece.

"That's friendly," said Harry, as Hermione read the brief missive over his shoulder. "But what message? Because I certainly didn't send them anything. It's not like I even could, they wouldn't go within twenty feet of an owl, and the Royal Mail doesn't have a branch at Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts sends out Owls to all the parents of students who aren't going to their homes for Christmas break," replied Hermione. "So even though you were going next door to your aunt and uncle, they still would have gotten a message, probably delivered by Hedwig since she's your owl. And Hedwig then probably pecked at them until they gave you a, um…'present'," she finished awkwardly, staring at the fifty-pence piece, seriously wanting to walk next door and give Harry's aunt and uncle a piece of her mind. But instead, she just returned to her presents, allowing Harry to enjoy his first real Christmas without doing anything to remind him of his abusive childhood.

Meanwhile, Harry had opened his next present, a lumpy package from the twins' mother, Mrs. Weasley. It was an emerald-green hand-knitted sweater, along with a large box of homemade fudge. Harry looked over at Hermione, who had just unwrapped her own maroon sweater, and seemed just as surprised as he was to receive something from the twins' mother.

Turning back to his own presents, Harry opened a broomstick servicing kit from Hermione, which he promptly gave her a hug for. The next to last package held a small badge, along with a note from the twins: _Here is Percy's prefect badge. He's going to go nuts when he wakes up on Christmas morning and it's missing. He should spend the entire day chasing us around the castle, thinking we have it. Enjoy._ Harry rolled his eyes and gave a small chuckle at the twins' latest high jinx, handing the note to Hermione to read as well. He also made a mental note to make sure to bring Percy's badge back with him when he retuned to Hogwarts.

The last gift in the pile had no label on it at all. It was lightweight, and when he opened it, a silvery cloth fell to the floor. Hermione gasped, quickly setting down the book Harry had gotten her; _Hogwarts, A History: Part 2_.

"That's an invisibility cloak!" she exclaimed in awe, staring at it.

"A what?" asked Harry, picking it up off the floor.

"Try it on," she said excitedly, so Harry did so. "Look at your body!"

Harry looked down, and jumped back startled. His entire body was completely invisible. Meanwhile, Hermione had picked up a note off the floor that had fallen out of the package with the invisibility cloak.

"No name," she said as she handed Harry the note, having glanced at the bottom of the note to see if it said who had sent it.

Taking the note, Harry handed Hermione the cloak to look at.

_Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you._  
_Use it well.  
_ _A Very Merry Christmas to you._

"It was my dad's," said Harry in awe, reading the note over again. Handing it back to Hermione to read, he continued, "This doesn't look like any handwriting I've seen before. Have you ever seen this narrow, loopy handwriting before?"

Hermione shook her head, as dumbfounded as Harry was.

* * *

"Did you say Nicholas Flamel?" asked Mr Granger, as he walked into the living room.

It was several days after Christmas, and Harry and Hermione were lying on the living room floor, searching through book after book, trying to find some mention of Nicholas Flamel, and what he might be hiding at Hogwarts.

"Yes," replied Hermione, looking up at her dad with a puzzled look on her face. "Have _you_ heard of him? How?"

"Well, it's probably a different Nicholas Flamel, since I read about him in one of our history books, but there was a Nicholas Flamel in fourteenth century France. He was known to be a scribe and manuscript seller, but legend also puts him in the study of alchemy, which does sound more along the lines of magic."

Hermione's face lit up. "Fourteenth century! That's why we haven't been able to find him!" And with that she leapt up and tore off towards her room.

"I take it its the same person?" said Mr Granger.

"Hermione clearly thinks so," replied Harry. "And given that alchemy is more of a magical subject than a muggle one, she's probably right. That and the fact she's almost always right."

A few seconds later Hermione came dashing back, an enormous old book in her arms.

"I never thought to look in here!" she exclaimed excitedly. "I got this out of the library weeks ago for a bit of light reading.

"Nicolas Flamel," she continued dramatically, "is the only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone!"

"The what?" said Harry.

"Read this."

She pushed the book toward him, and Harry read: _The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Philosopher's Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal._

_There have been many reports of the Philosopher's Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicolas Flamel, the noted alchemist and opera lover. Mr. Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle (six hundred and fifty-eight)._

"Fluffy must be guarding the stone. Flamel knew someone was after it, so he had Dumbledore hide it at Hogwarts, since that's the only place safer than Gringotts," said Hermione, when Harry had finished reading.

"No wonder Snape wants it; unlimited gold and immortality," said Harry. "And explains why we couldn't find him in any of the books we were looking in, if he's six hundred years old."

Harry and Hermione pulled out the rest of Hermione's books on Medieval wizardry, and spent the rest of the afternoon researching Flamel and the Philosopher's Stone. However, while interesting and informative, it did little in actually helping them protect the stone and keep Snape from obtaining it.

"How has your dad heard of Flamel if he was a wizard?" asked Harry a while later as they perused the books, after Mr Granger had left the room.

"My dad's a history buff, and reads a lot. Where do you think I got my interest in reading from?" answered Hermione. "As for how he's heard of Flamel as a muggle, there were lots of wizards in Medieval times who contributed to both muggle science and magic. Like Flamel, some of them even have legends about their magical work, but since muggles reject anything non-magical, those parts of their lives are merely legends to muggles. I read all about the Medieval overlap of magic and muggle in _Medieval Magical History_. Its really quite fascinating."

* * *

The remainder of Christmas break passed quickly, and they soon found themselves boarding the train back to Hogwarts.

Despite living next door, Harry and Hermione had only briefly seen the Dursleys a few times over the break. But as the Dursleys never made any indication that they recognized Harry, and as Harry wasn't inclined to approach them himself, it was a Dursley-free Christmas Break for Harry and Hermione. When Harry had first agreed to go home with her for Christmas, Hermione had hoped that after not seeing Harry for four months, the Dursleys would be missing their nephew, but she quickly realized that wasn't going to be the case. And after watching them completely ignore him over Christmas, she wished she could hope that by summer they would want to see him again, but she knew it would be a futile hope; the Dursleys really did wish that Harry wasn't in their lives.

* * *

"How'd you like our Christmas present?" asked the twins with a grin as soon as they saw Harry back at school after Christmas break. Harry and Hermione had just entered the Gryffindor common room, and were settling down on the couch in front of the fire when the twins came through the portrait hole and saw them.

"You two are crazy. So how did Percy take it?" replied Harry, as he pulled the prefect badge out of his robe.

"He's been going ballistic," said Fred, taking the badge from Harry.

"And now we're going to put it back in his room, slightly hidden under his books so he'll find it in the morning, and think he's just overlooked it since Christmas," continued George.

"Wish I could have seen it," said Harry, before asking the question that had been on his mind since Christmas. "Why did your mother send me a gift? I mean, I really appreciate it, but I've never even met her."

"We told her you weren't expecting any presents," replied George.

"So we told her to send you something," said Fred.

"Well tell her thank you," said Harry. "It was really nice of her."

"Will do. But in the meantime, Lee thinks he's found a new shortcut to get to the Great Hall that he wants to show us."

"But we'll see you two around."

"Bye," said Harry and Hermione together, watching the twins disappear out of the common room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: A thousand pardons to the great CS Lewis for borrowing from “The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe” for the flashback to Fluffy; it just fit in too perfectly not to use.
> 
> A/N 2: Hopefully the Royal Mail is correct; I'm from the other side of the pond, and am not at all familiar with the British mail service.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, well, would you look at that. I finally got a new chapter up. Hopefully the final chapter to Book 1 won't take as long, and I have fairly decent outline of how I want to start Book 2 as well.

The next morning, when Harry and Hermione met up in the common room to walk down to breakfast together, Ron came down the spiral staircase just as they were starting to exit the portrait hole, grumpily sporting his own hand-knitted sweater.

"Isn't that the exact same color as yours?" asked Harry, once the portrait was safely closed behind them and they were walking down to the Great Hall together.

"Yes, it is," replied Hermione, looking thoughtful. "Odd. Did Mrs Weasley accidentally make Ron two, and so sent one to me? And how does she even know me?"

Hermione's monologue was cut short by a cheerful voice from behind them that said, "Harry Potter, wearing his Weasley sweater, I see," as a hand clapped Harry on the back.

The Weasley twins stepped into stride on either side of Harry and Hermione, sporting their own matching dark blue sweaters.

"Heard our little sister got a green sweater this year as well," chimed in the other twin.

"Really?" asked Hermione, her interest peaked. "Same color?"

"I think so. Mind you, we haven't actually seen it, but she said her sweater was dark green in an owl she sent us the day after Christmas. Why?"

"Oh, nothing, just interesting, that's all," replied Hermione lightly. "I _was_ wondering though how your mother sent _me_ a sweater. I didn't know she even knew of me."

"That might be our fault," replied the twin on the right.

"Our mother does keep wanting to know how Harry is doing, ever since we told her that he was here this year," continued the twin on the left.

"And it's impossible to write about Harry without at least occasionally mentioning the brightest witch of the year."

"She must have figured since you were friends with Harry, you needed a sweater as well."

"Tell her thank you for me," replied Hermione. "They are really nice sweaters."

Once the twins had bounced on down the hall towards were their friend Lee Jordan was waiting for them, Harry asked in an undertone, "What'd you mean by it being interesting that I had the same color sweater as their sister?"

"I'm sure it's nothing," replied Hermione, "but it just seems a bit odd to me that she would make the same colored sweaters for you and their younger sister, and then for me and Ron, when seemingly the only way she even knows about me is because of you. And knowing the twins, I'm sure they told their mom that we're best friends, and spend all our time together, so it seems like it would make more sense if she'd made _us_ the same color sweaters, like she did the twins. But instead, she made Ron and I, who never even talk to each other, the same color sweaters, and she made you and their sister the same color sweater as their younger sister, when you've never even met. Just feels odd."

~HP~HP~HP~

As classes started back, Harry was very thankful that Hermione had encouraged him to read and study over the Christmas Holidays, as the spells they were now learning were even more advanced than those they'd been studying before the term ended, and if he had slacked off at all, he knew he'd be way behind, scrambling to try to keep up. Fortunately he'd listened to Hermione though, and was ready to tackle all the new, exciting magic they were covering.

The class he'd spent the most time for was also his least favorite, though, and he was not eager to test his newfound knowledge. A part of him hoped that if he could show an aptitude towards the discipline, that their teacher would stop treating him like scum, but given the fact their teacher still treated Hermione like dirt, even though she was by far the best in the class, he knew better than expect that to ever actually happen. But if he could be second best in the class to his muggle-born friend, then he could at least be proud of himself, and know that under any competent teacher he'd be doing honorable work.

As was wont with undesirable occasions, Friday morning came much quicker than Harry would have liked, and the first Potions class of the new term.

As usual, Ron was goofing around as they started making their potions, and on the fifth line misread shrivelfig instead of silverweed; which caused his cauldron to send out a shower of sparks instead of turning a pale yellow color. Fortunately for Harry, he was bent over his own cauldron at the moment, watching carefully for his potion to change from orange to pale sea foam green — the trickiest portion of the potion that required precisely the correct number of stirs at the correct speed based on the color of the potion at the exact moment — and therefore the sparks bounced harmlessly off the back of his robes instead of hitting him in the face.

Unfortunately for Harry, Snape was Snape, and was particularly irritated at the moment that despite having separated Potter and Ms Granger at opposite ends of the dungeon, where there was no way she could whisper instructions to him, Harry's potion was coming along nearly as well as the muggle-born's, and much better than anyone else's in the class.

"Potter!" snapped Snape, glowering at Harry, where he sat cutting up the last ingredient to add to his nearly perfect potion. "Why didn't you tell him not to add the shrivelfig? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's twenty points you've lost for Gryffindor, and detention with me tonight."

Harry was too used to the injustice to do more than spare the man who so clearly loathed him a brief glare of his own before returning to his simmering potion, dropping in the cut up sneezewort petals one by one, so that it turned the same sapphire blue that Hermione's finished potion had turned mere minutes before.

~HP~HP~HP~

That evening, Harry was walking across the Entrance Hall to the steps leading down to the Dungeons, when Filch cut him off.

"There has been a change in your detention," scowled Filch, glaring at Harry as if students were everything that was wrong with the castle. "You are to clean the unused classroom on the fourth floor. Without magic," he added with an evil leer.

Silently thanking the heavens that he didn't have to do detention with the greasy-haired slime-ball, he spun on his heels without a word and marched back out the way he'd came in. Cleaning without magic was second nature to him, having spent his entire childhood doing all the cleaning at the Dursleys (along with all of everything else as well, of course), but there was no reason to let Filch know that he was more than pleased with this change in detentions.

Making his way up to the unused classroom, Harry pushed the door open and walked in. The first thing he noticed was an ancient-looking mirror, that looked as if it had just been stuck there to keep it out of the way. The rest of the room looked like an unused classroom would be expected to look, with the dark shapes of desks and chairs piled against the walls.

Harry took a few steps towards the mirror, wondering what exactly he was supposed to be cleaning, since the room looked clean to him, before he caught site of his reflection in the mirror, and any thoughts about cleaning vanished from his mind. A whole crowd of people was standing right behind him, where he'd just walked.

Harry spun around, just to be faced with the still empty room he'd entered. Slowly turning back towards the mirror, he once more found the multitude milling around in the reflection, with two of them standing directly behind him, hands resting on his reflection's shoulders. Between the woman's green eyes, and the man's untamable raven-hair, Harry quickly realized they must be his parents, and the rest of the crowd in the background, his ancestors.

Harry stood there transfixed for the longest time, before a small noise behind him brought him back to his senses. Looking around, he was shocked to find the Headmaster himself sitting on one of the desks, looking at him kindly with amusement dancing in his sparkling blue eyes. Harry could swear that the old man hadn't been there when he entered the room, and that there certainly hadn't been a desk that far away from the wall.

"I see you have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised," Dumbledore said gravely, but not unkindly. "Have you figured out yet what it does?"

"It — well — it shows me my family —" began Harry, sure that there had to be more to it than just showing him his ancestors, but unsure as to what that might be.

"Let me give you a clue," replied Dumbledore, standing up from the desk and gazing with a far-off look towards the mirror. "The happiest man on earth would be able to use the Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror; that is, he would look into it and see himself exactly as he is. Does that help?"

Harry thought hard for a several seconds, before slowly venturing, "It shows us what we want... whatever we want…?"

"Yes and no," replied Dumbledore quietly, and, Harry thought, a little bit sadly. "It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. Therefore you, who have never known your family, see them standing around you."

A contemplative silence settled over them for a while as they both stared into the mirror, each lost in their own thoughts.

But after a while, Dumbledore cleared his throat, and said with a smile, and a much lighter tone, "Now, I do believe it is time for all good students to be in bed. Let us be off before Filch tries to give either of us detention for being out of bed past hours."

* * *

Between training for his upcoming second Quidditch match, and keeping up with his homework, Harry had little time to think about the Mirror, and what Dumbledore had told him about it.

While excited by pulling off one of the quickest wins in living memory right under Snape's hooked nose, it was really the vast array of magic they were learning in class that thrilled Harry the most. Hermione's passion for learning was, quite simply put, contagious, and with her helpful guidance, Harry found that learning could be almost as fun as flying through the air supported by nothing more than a few twigs; and when Hermione showed him several books from the library that explained the magic that enabled the brooms to fly, it made the actual flying that much more amazing.

With Hermione's constant tutelage, they had well outpaced the rest of their classmates during the first term of the school year, and so with the start of the new term, their practical subject professors (other than Snape, of course, who resolutely refused to recognize either of their achievements) had started giving them more advanced magic to begin practicing, after they'd inevitably aced the day's lesson in the first half of class.

The one subject Harry still struggled in during class was History of Magic, taught by a ghost who's grasp of engaging lessons was as insubstantial as his body. Fortunately, Hermione could somehow stay awake well enough during class to actually take notes, and in the evening after class, Harry and Hermione would hole up in the library, where she would teach him everything Professor Binns had said during class that day, pulling books off the library shelves that gave a more captivating description of the events than how Professor Binns droned on about them.

It was during one of these nightly sessions in the library that they saw Hagrid attempting to sneak out of the library without attracting any attention to himself; which of course worked about as well as holding up a giant sign in flashing neon colors that said "Don't look at me." Suspicious, Harry and Hermione walked over to the section their large friend had been in, and began looking at the titles; _Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland — From Egg to Inferno, A Dragon Keeper's Guide —_ _Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit_...

"He's always wanted a dragon," said Harry slowly in an undertone, "he told me so the very first time I ever met him..."

"He _can't_ have!" whispered Hermione. "It's completely illegal, and besides, where would he even get one?"

That was a question neither of them could answer, but they made a mental note to go down to his hut the next afternoon to see.

~HP~

Knocking on his hut door the following afternoon after classes were over for the day, Harry and Hermione were met with a stifling gust of air as Hagrid cracked open the door. Once inside, things were even worse. Despite the bright, sunshiny day, all the windows were covered with heavy drapes, and a roaring fire was blazing in the fireplace, with a heavy metal kettle sitting in it. Because of the kettle, Harry couldn't see what was in the fire, but he'd be willing to bet everything he had that it was a dragon egg.

But before Harry or Hermione could say anything, Hagrid spoke first, saying, "I seen you two in the library las' night, yeh aren' still on abou' Flamel, are yeh?"

"Oh, no," replied Harry, "we found out over Christmas who he was, and that Dumbledore's guarding the Philosopher's Stone for him."

Hagrid looked up at them in surprise, nearly spilling the tea and stoat sandwiches he'd been carrying over to the table for them, but with a quick swish and flick of her wand, Hermione kept the tray upright until Hagrid could set it down on the table.

"But speaking of the Stone," continued Harry, "we _were_ wondering what else besides Fluffy is guarding the Stone?"

"Who else besides you does Dumbledore trust enough to guard it?" added Hermione.

Harry could tell that Hermione's question had done the trick, as Hagrid's chest swelled with pride at these words. Harry beamed at Hermione.

"Well, I don' s'pose it could hurt ter tell yeh who had a hand in guardin' the Stone," Hagrid replied, his beard twitching with a smile. "Let's see... he borrowed Fluffy from me... then some o' the teachers did enchantments... Professor Sprout — Professor Flitwick — Professor McGonagall — Professor Quirrell — an' Dumbledore himself did somethin', o' course. Hang on, I've forgotten someone. Oh yeah, Professor Snape."

At the mention of Snape, Harry and Hermione gaped at each other, four eyebrows trying to simultaneously escape into the nearest hairline.

Hagrid apparently noticed this as he quickly continued on, "Yer not still on abou' that, are yeh? Look, Snape helped protect the Stone, he's not about ter steal it."

"Hagrid, I heard Snape asking Quirrell how to get past Fluffy. He's going after it," insisted Harry, thinking back to the scene he'd spied on in the Forbidden Forest after the second Quidditch match.

"Oh, I'm sure yeh misunderstood 'em," answered Hagrid, waving one of his giant hands around aimlessly, nearly knocking the tea pot off the table. "Snape must'v' been askin' abou' somethin' else. He wouldn' try ter steal the stone. Like I said, 'e's one o' the teachers pertectin' it."

Harry and Hermione just looked at each other, knowing that Hagrid was never going to relent in his beliefs about Snape. So instead, they decided to redirect their attentions to the reason they'd came down here in the first place.

"Why do you have it so stifling hot in here, can we open a window or something?" asked Harry, moving towards the nearest window. He didn't expect Hagrid to actually allow him to open a window, if he did in fact have a dragon egg on the fire, but he knew Hagrid would be more likely to reveal his secret if pushed into it.

"Can't, Harry, sorry," said Hagrid really quickly, glancing at the fire. "I — um…"

But he was spared from having to make up something by Hermione walking over to the fire and asking, "Where did you get it, Hagrid? They should be impossible to buy."

"Won it," answered Hagrid. "Las' night, down at the pub. Got into a game o' cards with a stranger. He seemed quite glad ter get rid of it, ter be honest."

_An illegal dragon egg? Surely not!_ thought Harry to himself, but all he asked out loud was, "What are you planning on doing with it once it's hatched?"

"Well, I've bin doin' some readin'," replied Hagrid. "Like I said, I was in th' library las' night, might' not o' seen me, I was sneakin' abou' yeh see — Said t' keep the egg in the fire, 'cause their mothers breathe on 'em, see, an' when it hatches, feed it on a bucket o' brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour. An' it had how ter recognize diff'rent eggs — what I got there's a Norwegian Ridgeback. They're rare, them."

Hermione looked exasperated. "Hagrid, you live in a wood house! Fire and wood don't mix!"

But Hagrid paid her no heed as he looked longingly at the fire.

~HP~HP~HP~

Over the next few weeks, Harry and Hermione continued to visit Hagrid, trying to talk some sense into him, and trying to think of some way to avoid the impending disaster of a dragon in Hagrid's hut.

At breakfast one day, Hedwig came soaring down, bringing a letter from Hagrid. The twins were sitting next to them as Harry opened the letter, and George read the note over Harry's shoulder.

"What's hatching?" he whispered, leaning close to Harry under the pretense of grabbing another piece of bacon.

Quickly looking around to make sure no one could overhear them, Hermione replied quietly, "Hagrid's got a dragon's egg."

"Cool!" whispered Fred gleefully.

"Not cool!" exclaimed Hermione, barely keeping her voice at a whisper. "He's going to get in a lot of trouble if anyone finds out, and so will we if they discover we've been hiding it!"

"Yeah, but until then, Hagrid's got a bloody dragon!" whispered George back.

"Can we at least go with you to see it hatching?" asked Fred.

"Because four people going to down to Hagrid's isn't going to be more suspicious than just two," muttered Hermione with an eye-roll, but they all could tell she didn't really mind.

~HP~

That afternoon after classes, the four of them met in the courtyard and headed down to Hagrid's hut. By the time they got there, it had almost hatched.

As they watched the baby dragon hatch, and then Hagrid play with the newborn dragon, George leaned over to Harry and Hermione and said, "You know, our brother, Charlie, is a dragon trainer in Romania. If we can just convince Hagrid, I bet he'd take him."

"We have to do something, there's no way this is going to end well if Hagrid tries to keep this thing in his hut for very long," replied Hermione, anxiously watching Hagrid play with his newly-born pet.

"Hagrid's not going to agree to anything right now," sighed Harry. "He's too besotted by his new pet to see reason."

"Why don't we write Charlie and see if he can take it, and then when the time comes maybe it'll've become enough of a handful that it will be easier to convince Hagrid to let it go," replied Fred, to which they all nodded their heads, hoping their plan would work.

~HP~HP~HP~

Harry and Hermione took their seats next to each other in the Great Hall for lunch, and Harry pulled out his copy of their Charms book, and propped it up in front of them. They were set to begin the Mending Charm today, a highly useful bit of magic that required careful concentration on that which you desired to repair.

They had just started reading the third page on the charm, that described the wand motion, when the book was suddenly snatched up from in front of them.

"You don't need to be studying the upcoming lesson, that's what class is for," snapped the attached voice irritably, stalking down the table with the pilfered book, continuing to grumble, "let someone who still has their homework to do use it."

Ron dropped the book down on the table at his seat, before plopping himself into his seat, and after overflowing his plate with food, pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill.

"At least he's actually doing his homework this time," muttered Harry, before picking up his wand off the table and practicing the motions for the charm.

"Yeah, but he's not going to be particularly happy when he realizes it's your book he took, and not mine," whispered Hermione as she pulled her own copy of the book out from her bag, and set it up in front of them. "He just wants to be able to copy off the notes I write in the margins of my books, and now he's going to have to actually read the text."

As Harry and Hermione continued to eat and study the upcoming lesson, down the table, Draco had wandered up to where Ron was muttering into his plate of food, trying to scratch out something that would appear to be completed homework, which is almost certainly what it would be — something that would only appear to be completed homework.

"Oh, look at that, still working on your homework. I had all of mine done days ago," drawled Draco, reaching over Ron's shoulder to flip the pages. "Oops, sorry, were you looking at that page?"

It was then that Draco realized there was a carefully folded letter stuck in the page he'd flipped to.

"What is this, a letter to you? Who would send you a letter," sneered Draco, grabbing the letter. "I'll take this." And with that, he sauntered back to his own table, letter in hand.

Grumbling as he tried to find the page he'd been on, Ron muttered to himself, "It's not my stupid letter, you git."

It wasn't until they were halfway through their Charms lesson that afternoon that Harry realized Charlie's letter, that they'd received the evening before telling them when his friends would be by to pick up the dragon, wasn't there.

"Hermione!" he whispered, nudging Hermione in the side. "Charlie's letter! It's missing!"

Hermione's eyes widened in panic.

"Draco!" she whispered back. "I saw him being an arse to Ron during lunch, I bet he saw the letter and took it. And since it wasn't Ron's letter, he didn't care!"

Harry thought desperately for a few seconds, but couldn't come up with any alternative. "We're going to have to try to still go through it. We don't have enough time to write back to Charlie to change anything. And we have to get rid of this dragon."

"At least we have your invisibility cloak. Draco doesn't know about that."

~HP~HP~HP~

Harry, Hermione, and the twins had finally managed to convince Hagrid to let Charlie's friends take the young dragon to Romania, where it could be raised up properly and released into the wild. And after much discussion, Harry and Hermione had convinced the twins that due to their smaller stature, they would be the better choices for the two to carry Norbert up to the tallest tower, since only two could fit under Harry's invisibility cloak with the dragon cage.

Which was how Harry and Hermione found themselves climbing up the seemingly never-ending spiral staircase up to the tallest tower of Hogwarts at nearly midnight on the following Saturday evening.

They had collected Norbert in his cage from Hagrid's hut, and charmed it to be much lighter than a wooden crate and a several week old dragon naturally were, before beginning the long and arduous journey from Hagrid's hut to the top of the tallest tower, all without being caught. Because wandering around in the middle of the night with an illegal dragon was something they thought would probably be slightly frowned upon by the adult population of the castle.

Nearing the final staircase to the top they froze, a simultaneously most welcome and most unwelcome sight in front of them. The most welcome part was that Professor McGonagall was dragging Draco Malfoy by the ear, shouting, "Detention! And twenty points from Slytherin! Wandering around in the middle of the night, how dare you —"

The most unwelcome part was that aforementioned scene was heading straight towards them, and they just barely had time to jump out of the way before professor and student came storming past them. Letting out a sigh of relief once the danger was past, Harry and Hermione climbed the last stairs with their hearts higher than they'd been since they'd discovered that Hagrid had the egg in the first place.

Fifteen minutes later, they skipped down the stairs from the top of the tower, problematic dragon finally gone, sure that all their troubles were finally over with —

And that's when they saw Filch lurking in the hallway below them, and they realized they'd left Harry's invisibility cloak at the top of the tower.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So…This took a little longer to get up than I promised — I do believe I said I’d be quicker posting this chapter, not ten times longer. Well, here it finally is.   
> And when I wrote Chapter 3, I thought there’d be one more chapter (this one). In actuality, there’s going to be three. However, they are all written, and just need some light proofreading and editing and final touches. I plan on releasing Chapter 5 next Friday evening (Sept 20), and Chapter 6 the following Saturday (Sept 28), and I think I can actually deliver this time.  
> So for anyone who still remembers this story (or is reading it for the first time, so none of the above matters), happy reading, hope you enjoy.

To say that Professor McGonagall was a tad bit upset would be like saying Voldemort was mildly disappointed that Harry hadn't died ten years earlier. Harry and Hermione had never seen her so angry, and never wanted to again.

After the lecture she gave them, the detention and twenty points each she took from them seemed almost pleasant in comparison; especially considering after Draco's twenty lost points were taken into consideration, they had only lost twenty points in comparison to their rival house.

"We should have just told her the truth," muttered Harry as they walked back up to Gryffindor Tower, his ears still ringing with McGonagall's scolding.

"We can't have!" insisted Hermione, shaking her head fiercely. "Just because the dragon's gone doesn't mean Hagrid couldn't still get in a lot of trouble for it. And so could we for not immediately going to a professor as soon as we found out about the dragon egg. We probably would have gotten in even more trouble than we already did for wandering up to the tallest tower at midnight for a little star gazing — or whatever it is she thinks we were up there for."

The following morning, Harry and Hermione went down to the Great Hall early for breakfast, hoping to avoid the crowds. Though forty points wasn't the largest amount of points ever lost overnight, and would be even less visible given Slytherin's own loss of twenty points, they were still hoping to avoid the largest of crowds in case someone somehow figured out they were responsible.

They'd just started eating in the mostly still empty Great Hall when the twins plopped down across from them.

"I'm guessing something went awry," said George, nodding subtly to the giant hourglasses, that had forty fewer glittering rubies than it had before everyone went to bed the night before.

"Is it at least gone?" asked Fred.

"Yes, and yes," replied Harry, looking around to make sure no one was close enough to hear them. Then he told them the entire story of everything that had happened from the time they'd left Gryffindor tower to go get the dragon, to getting caught by Filch and having to face Professor McGonagall.

"Wow. Sorry about the detentions, but at least this is all over with," said Fred after Harry had finished.

"Yeah. As unpleasant as detentions are — and we've had more than our fair share — or exactly our fair share, depending on who you ask — at least the worst part of this debacle is over with," continued Gorge, proving beyond a shadow of a doubt that he didn't have a drop of Seer blood in him.

It was eventually noticed by the rest of the castle that there were points missing from both the Gryffindor and Slytherin hourglasses (and slightly more so from Gryffindor), but as Draco had been the source of the points loss for Slytherin, he was less than inclined to spread stories that could eventually lead back to his own failings in life. Therefore, with no one else knowing the source of the points loss, it was never tracked back to Harry and Hermione.

~HP~

The following morning at breakfast, two owls delivered Harry and Hermione's detention summons. They were to appear that night at eleven in the Great Hall, at which point they would receive further instructions of their doom from Filch.

So at ten minutes till that evening, Harry and Hermione left the Gryffindor common room, and plodded through the halls down to the entrance one, arriving a minute before eleven, at the same time as Draco came skulking up the stairs from the dungeons.

Filch gleefully led them down to Hagrid's, and far too soon, Harry, Hermione, Draco, Hagrid, and Fang were heading into the Forbidden Forest to find an injured unicorn. Because only something incredibly dangerous and fast could kill such a powerful magic creature, so who better to have help a wizard who wasn't allowed to use magic search for the injured beast than three first years, and cowardly dog.

They split up, Harry and Draco going with Fang, and Hermione with Hagrid, in hopes of finding trouble quicker. A little over half an hour of wandering in the woods later, Harry and Draco found the dead unicorn in a clearing. But before they could step towards it, a hooded figure slithered across the ground from the edge of the clearing towards the unicorn. Lowering its head over the beast, it began drinking its blood, causing Draco to let out a blood-curdling scream, and tear off into the forest, Fang at his heels.

Irritated by having the blood it was trying to drink curdled, the hooded figure turned towards the source of this injustice to its late night snack, and found Harry standing there. It hurried across the ground towards Harry, planning to give him what for for messing up his dinner, when a young centaur burst onto the scene, scaring the figure away.

At the centaur's command, Harry climbed on his back, and he took off through the forest back towards where Hagrid was still searching fruitlessly for the unicorn with Hermione.

"So what was that thing you saved me from, anyway?" asked Harry after a few minutes of riding.

Firenze, for that's who the centaur was, explained to Harry what unicorn blood was used for, and why someone might risk drinking it for a while, until finally guiding Harry into remembering the Philosopher's Stone that was currently lurking in the bowels of the castle, and a certain someone (who shall remain unnamed) who'd really like to get their hands on some immortality juice.

By this point they'd made it back to Hagrid and Hermione (Draco and Fang had apparently skedaddled back to the castle and Hagrid's hut, respectively), and Firenze bid them adieu. After magnanimously helping Hagrid remove the late unicorn from the clearing so that it could start pushing up the daisies elsewhere, Harry and Hermione walked back up to the castle and the Gryffindor common room, discussing everything that had transpired.

"So apparently Snape wants the stone for Voldemort, instead of himself," said Harry.

"Apparently," agreed Hermione, before exclaiming, "I can't believe Voldemort's hiding out in the Forbidden Forest and no one's doing anything about it!"

"Should we tell Professor McGonagall?"

Hermione thought for a few minutes, as they walked through the Great Oak Doors, into the Great Entrance Hall, past the Great Hall, and started up the Great Staircase, before finally replying, "No, we've gotten involved in enough as it is. Clearly the centaurs know about Voldemort being there, and if Dumbledore is hiding the Stone from Voldemort, I can't believe they wouldn't have told him. Anyway, with no proof that Snape is trying to get the Stone for Voldemort, I'm pretty sure she wouldn't believe us if we did tell her. You saw how Hagrid reacted when confronted with the possibility of Snape trying to steal the Stone. I doubt Professor McGonagall would be much different."

~HP~

Despite their constant worry that Snape was going to finally learn everything he needed to steal the Stone and give it to Voldemort, the final few weeks of the term passed by without incident.

Their teachers ramped up their homework as final exams approached, as did Oliver Wood with their Quidditch practices. The final Quidditch match of the season, Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw to determine the year's champion, was scheduled for the next to last Saturday in May, a week before final exams started.

When Hermione had questioned Wood about the sagacity of holding the match so close to final exams, he'd replied that in his four previous years at Hogwarts, the final match had always been at least two weeks prior to the start of final exams, and he had no idea why it had been scheduled so late that year, but he had heard that the teachers occasionally scheduled it merely a week before finals, and there was nothing he could do about it. And quite frankly, he wasn't very pleased with it himself, as he was taking his OWLs that year, and would have preferred the match to have been several weeks earlier.

When Hermione threw out the idea of the match being held _after_ final exams, Wood had replied that he'd never heard of a Quidditch match being held after exams were over, and that the final was always held in May, or occasionally in April. And also never appeared to follow any real schedule as to when it was held, unlike the first match of the season, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, that was always held the first (or on a very rare occasion, like that year, the second) Saturday in November.

So on the next to last Saturday of May, everyone gathered at the pitch to see if Gryffindor could finally snatch the cup away from Slytherin.

Madam Hooch was back to refereeing, but Harry quickly spotted Dumbledore in the stands as they walked out onto the pitch to start the match, so despite seeing Snape sitting between Quirrell and Flitwick a few rows below the Headmaster, he wasn't worried about Snape trying to throw him off his broom again.

Just as in the two previous matches of the season, the team flew brilliantly. The Snitch waited a much longer time than the first two matches to make its appearance, but when it finally did, Harry caught it with ease, continuing his perfect snitch-catching record. Combined with already holding the lead in the match, it was a resounding win for Gryffindor, and when Harry's hand closed around the fluttering golden ball, half the stadium burst into celebration, and even the quarter that had just lost the match still cheered (though slightly more subdued) when Gryffindor was formally announced as the Cup champions. After all, Slytherin wasn't winning it for the sixth straight year.

~HP~

Following the conclusion of the Quidditch season, Harry's attention turned fully to their upcoming exams.

And despite the fact she'd never admit it to anyone, herself included, Hermione's own attentions also turned fully back to schoolwork. Everyone thought the bookworm's attentions were always entirely on schoolwork, given the fact that's all she ever seemed to be doing, but in reality, even though she kept it well hidden from Harry as well as everyone else, she had been quite as distracted by the Quidditch season as everyone else.

Except for her, it had nothing to do with the game itself, and everything to do with her best friend. Because even if everyone else ignored it, she knew how dangerous a sport Quidditch was, and in the weeks leading up to each match, she was constantly worried he would get seriously hurt. But she knew how much he enjoyed the sport, how freeing it was for him, and how beneficial it was for him to finally have something people cheered for him for, so she never said anything about how worried it made her. But at least until next year it was all over for now, and she could focus her attentions entirely back on learning.

Most of the rest of the castle's attention had turned to final exams as well, but there were still those occasional students who were more interested in trying to relive the last Quidditch match than study.

After a while, the youngest redhead's stories of defeating a troll singlehandedly in a spectacular wizard's dual that had lasted for hours had eventually played out, largely supplanted by stories of a couple first years encountering five dragons (or was it a five-headed dragon?) in the forbidden corridor, spread as he'd quickly deduced, by his own attention-hogging brothers. So he'd tried to go meet these dragons of the forbidden third corridor for himself, so he would have a new story to tell about himself that would recapture the castle's notice and make him the proper center of attention again, but as hard as he pulled at the door, it refused to budge. Ever since then, he'd spent the majority of his time talking Quidditch and playing wizards chess, trying to think of some new way to make himself stand out in the castle.

As Harry and Hermione entered the Gryffindor common room together after lunch on the Sunday afternoon before finals were to start to switch out their books before heading back to the library to study some more, they found Ron playing chess against Seamus, yakking about the Quidditch match yet again.

"Shouldn't you be studying instead of playing chess for the thousandth time?" said Hermione as she walked past where they were sitting.

"What, like you? Sitting in the library twenty-four seven, never having any fun? I think not, Bookworm" sneered the redhead, like he thought he'd just given some real great insult or retort. "You need to loosen up some, enjoy life a little," he continued airily. "There's no need to study all the time."

"Well how about studying _some_ of the time? Because you don't seem to even do that," snapped Hermione. She tried to offer a little helpful advice, and this is the thanks she got in return. "And for your information, I _enjoy_ learning, so I _am_ enjoying my life, thank you very much!"

Deciding he clearly wasn't going to get anywhere with the Know-It-All, Ron redirected his attention towards a hopefully easier target.

"What about you, Potter?" he asked. "Why do you hang out with this library-dwelling muggleborn? You're a superstar Quidditch player — you don't need to study."

"What does Quidditch have to do with school?" asked Harry in genuine confusion. "If I don't pass, I won't be able to come back next year, in which case I won't be able to keep playing. And anyway, all this magic stuff is amazing. Maybe it's just because I'm a basically a muggleborn, so all this is completely new to me, but everything we've learned in class over the year is fascinating. And who better to study with than the smartest person in our year?"

Hermione blushed slightly at this, but neither of the boys seemed to notice.

"Yeah, well, I'm just saying, if _I_ was a famous Quidditch player, _I_ wouldn't be wasting my time studying, and I'd certainly be hanging out with cooler people than _her_ ," replied Ron with a tone of superiority, returning his attention to the chess board.

Harry started to launch himself at the redhead, before Hermione grabbed his arm forcefully and pulled him back, hissing in his ear, "Leave it. He isn't worth it."

Then she turned back to Ron and said haughtily, "And _you_ apparently don't even _need_ to be a famous Quidditch player to not bother 'wasting time' studying."

Then she turned towards the staircases leading up to the dorms and marched away, subtly pulling Harry with her.

As they disappeared up their respective spiral staircases, Seamus, who'd watched the whole interaction go down without saying a word, briefly glanced up at the redhead across from him, who's attention was entirely back on the chessboard. He'd seen Harry start to try to attack the redhead for his insult against Hermione before being stopped by bushy-haired girl, even if Ron hadn't, and he felt that Ron was lucky Hermione had stopped Harry, because regardless of the type of fight, physical or magical, he was pretty sure Harry would have wiped the floor with him. Harry certainly had the magical advantage, and he also looked like he knew a thing or two about being in fistfights and skirmishes.

He also felt that Harry and Hermione had a much better idea on the use of their time before finals started the next day than his friend did. He himself felt a little guilty about playing chess at the moment instead of studying, but he'd at least spent just about all of the day before studying, and planned on returning to studying after he lost a few more games of chess. He couldn't remember seeing Ron studying for finals...well, ever.

~HP~

Being well-studied, Harry breezed through final exams like they were just another day of lessons.

Pineapples tap-danced and salsaed across desks, mice transformed into ornamental snuffboxes (preferably without whiskers), everyone tried their best not to forget how to make a potion for forgetting things, Snape creepily breathed down their necks like every other class of the year, and no one could remember or bring themselves to care which batty wizard invented selfstirring cauldrons, especially since they weren't allowed to use them in class.

But finally they were free, no more classes, homework, or tests until September.

Harry and Hermione were relaxing outside, lying next to each other under the great oak next to the lake, enjoying the freedom, weather, and each other's company, when Harry sat up suddenly.

Hermione's browed creased in concern as she looked up at him, but before she could say anything, Harry exclaimed, "The stranger! The stranger at the pub!"

Hermione slowly sat up herself, her confusion only growing. "What stranger, in what pub, and what on earth are you talking about?"

"Hagrid said he got the dragon egg from a stranger in a pub in Hogsmeade."

"Yeah…so?" asked Hermione, still not following. "I mean, he had to either get it from someone he knew, or someone he didn't. And given the fact they're illegal, it's more likely it'd be someone he didn't."

"Exactly — they're illegal," exclaimed Harry. "So how many people are going to just be carrying them around in their pocket to wager at poker games? I bet you anything Snape was that stranger. And you know how Hagrid will blab about anything when he's not paying attention — it's how we know as much as we do. Which means if Snape was smart, it wouldn't have been difficult at all to get Hagrid to spill how to get past Fluffy."

Harry jumped up, presumably to go tearing off towards somewhere in a hurry, but Hermione grabbed his arm.

"But if that's true, then why hasn't he already gone after the Stone? I mean, if he had, Voldemort would have already come swooping in by this point, and he clearly hasn't."

Harry thought for several seconds, pulling Hermione up with the hand she still had on his arm to stand next next to him, before finally replying, "Maybe he was too busy with final exams? All the other teachers and all the students being in the castle too much, paying too much attention to his movements? Or maybe Dumbledore. Maybe he fears Dumbledore too much, so he's waiting until the headmaster leaves for something, and then he'll steal it. I don't know why he hasn't done it yet, Hermione, I just know he will! And I can prove it if we go down to Hagrid's and ask him about the stranger, and get him to spill how to get past Fluffy to us."

"Okay, okay," replied Hermione. "We'll go see what Hagrid has to say."

Harry tore off towards Hagrid's hut, causing Hermione to have to run after him.

When she had agreed to visit Hagrid, she had really meant a nice, leisurely stroll over to his hut, not a full out sprint. And she certainly hadn't meant it to include another full out sprint not five minutes later, this time from Hagrid's back up to the castle, to try and find Dumbledore. Because with surprisingly little work on Harry and Hermione's part, Hagrid had quickly let slip both how to get past the three-headed dog, and that he'd told the same bit of priceless information to the man in the hood, who unfortunately he hadn't seen enough of to be able to describe.

Bursting into the Entrance Hall, Harry and Hermione looked around wildly for the sign pointing to the Headmaster's office, hoping it had magically appeared since the thousand times they'd walked through there before and not seen it.

It hadn't.

Unfortunately, Professor McGonagall had.

"What are you two doing inside?" she asked sternly.

"We need to talk to Dumbledore, it's urgent," replied Hermione.

"See Professor Dumbledore?" she asked, as if it was highly suspicious that a student might want to talk to the headmaster of the school they attended. "Well it's right out of the question. Dumbledore left ten minutes ago on urgent business to the Ministry of Magic."

"Someone is going to try to steal the Sorcerer's Stone," blurted out Harry before she could turn to leave. "Hagrid revealed how to get past Fluffy, Quirrell's revealed how to get past whatever his security measure is…. They're going to steal it to give to Voldemort so he can come back and be immortal. And Voldemort's been hiding out in the Forbidden Forest drinking unicorn blood, waiting for them to steal the Stone for him."

McGonagall gasped, clearly not expecting any of that, before gathering herself and turning stony-faced.

"Inconceivable! No one could possibly even get to the Stone, let alone steal it. Not even He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named himself at his most powerful could get to that Stone."

"But Professor —" began Harry, before McGonagall cut him off.

"Potter, I know what I'm talking about," she said shortly, before sweeping away, her robes billowing behind her.

Harry and Hermione stood there for a few seconds, looking back and forth between their Head's disappearing back, and each other.

"Now what?" asked Hermione once McGonagall had disappeared out of sight.

"He's going to do it tonight," replied Harry confidently. "Sudden summons to the Ministry right now? That's way too convenient not to have been orchestrated by forces of great evil and greasiness."

Suddenly an interfering shadow loomed over them.

"Good afternoon," it said greasily, before adding with a sneer, "You shouldn't be inside on a day like this."

Harry and Hermione turned to face the overgrown bat fashioning himself as a teacher.

"Are we out of bounds, or breaking any school rules by standing in the Entrance Hall in the middle of the afternoon?" asked Harry in a tone so polite it couldn't be mistaken for anything less than thinly veiled loathing.

Snape leered at them for several long seconds, unable to actually contradict what Harry was saying, before finally saying, "You want to be more careful. Hanging around like this, people will think you're up to something."

Harry spared the man a short glare before turning and heading back outside, Hermione following him.

As they headed back to their spot by the lake, they ran across the twins heading in the opposite direction. But seeing the worried looks on Harry and Hermione's faces, the two redheads stopped.

"You look in a right snit," said one of the twins to Harry.

"What's got you looking like the giant squid stole all your homework?" asked the other twin.

"Remember how our dear friend Fluffy was guarding a trap door?" asked Harry. "Well, he's guarding an ancient Stone that turns metal into gold and makes you live forever, and we have good reason to believe that Snape is going to try to steal it tonight to give to Voldemort, who's hiding out in the Forbidden Forest."

Both twins looked at him and Hermione in shock.

"Are you sure?"

Harry nodded.

"So what are we going to do about it?"

"Well, I was trying to figure that out," replied Harry. "I think we're going to have to steal it before Snape can. Hermione and I tried telling Professor McGonagall but she wouldn't listen, and Dumbledore's gone to the Ministry — which is probably Snape's doing. Which just leaves us standing between Voldemort and world domination."

"You know, dear brother," said one of the twins to the other, "We just might have something that could help our intrepid friends pull this off."

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking? Perhaps a little map to make sure we don't get caught on our way to the third-floor corridor?" responded the other twin, before both of them turned back to Harry and Hermione and said together, "Let us in, and we can provide some unique and potentially valuable help on this great and noble quest of yourn."


	5. Chapter 5

That night after supper, Harry, Hermione, and the twins watched impatiently as the crowds in the Gryffindor common room slowly dwindled down, too nervous to actually do anything. Harry and Hermione sat on the couch together in front of the fireplace with books in their laps, but neither were absorbing a word they tried to read. Nearby, the twins sat hunched over the corner table, carefully watching the neat little map they had in their possession.

The unique and valuable help the twins had promised Harry and Hermione when they’d agreed to allow them in on the hunt was in the form of a clever map they'd liberated from the clutches of Filch and Mrs Norris two years earlier. Called the Marauder’s Map, it showed the location of everyone in the castle, which would allow them to safely make it from the Gryffindor common room down to Fluffy’s room without being stopped by any interfering teachers. It also kept them assured that Snape hadn’t gone after the Stone yet, as his name could still be seen prowling around his office in the dungeons.

Once everyone had finally departed the common room for bed, and a quick glance at the map proved they were the only ones left, Harry, Hermione, and the twins threw Harry's invisibility cloak over themselves, and snuck out the portrait hole. The cloak had reappeared on Harry’s bed by the time he and Hermione had gotten back from their detention in the Forbidden Forest, much to Harry’s surprise and gratefulness. Even with the map, this trip was much safer being invisible as well.

With four of them under it, the cloak didn't quite cover their ankles, no matter how hard they tried to squish together, but given the fact the halls were dark and they didn't plan on seeing anyone on their evening stroll anyway, it was going to have to be good enough.

With one of the twins keeping an eye on the map to make sure the coast was clear between them and their favorite three-headed giant ball of fur, they crept through the dark, abandoned hallways of the castle. Finally, and without incident, they made it to the poorly locked door on the right-hand side of the third floor corridor.

Hermione quickly unlocked it, they slipped through and shut it behind them, and Hermione locked the door back; if Snape did decide to come after the stone that evening, there was no reason to let him know someone else was already after it. After quickly pulling off the invisibility cloak and storing it back in his robes, Harry pulled out the owl flute Hagrid had gotten him for Christmas and began to blow on it, before the mapless twin snatched it out of his hands. A quick charm later and the flute was playing itself, and Fluffy was snoring soundly.

The four of them crept over to the trapdoor, and opened it. Like most trapdoors, it opened into a black hole.

“Too bad none of us can fly,” commented Fred, looking down into the nothingness. “Well, here goes.”

And with that he jumped, quickly nothing more than a speck of light from his lit wand to the other three looking down. 

“It’s some kind of plant,” came his voice floating upwards a few seconds later. “But it’s a soft landing, come on down.”

One by one, the other three jumped, the last bringing the enchanted flute with them, disenchanting it as he fell, so they wouldn’t be inundated with owl music the rest of the adventure.

As soon as they had all landed, George slightly panically exclaimed, “Light all your wands, now, and get onto solid ground!”

Everyone quickly did so, struggling slightly against the plant, as if it didn't want to let them go, before looking towards George for an explanation once they were all to safety.

“When I landed, I felt the plant trying to grab me, but it didn't seem to be doing so to Fred, who had his wand lit. It must not like light or something."

Hermione lifted her lit wand towards the mass of greenery, looking at it carefully. The vines shied away from her wandlight as she looked it over.

“Quick thinking, George,” she said after a few seconds. "It’s Devil’s Snare. That could have been bad.”

After they had stared at the evil shrubbery for a few more seconds, Harry finally said, “Well, let’s keep going. This Stone isn’t going to save itself.”

Moving on down the stone hallway, they came to a brilliantly lit chamber. Inside were thousands of twinkling little birds fluttering around brightly above their heads.

As they stared across the room at the door on the other side, Fred said, “Think they’ll attack us when we try to cross?”

“I doubt it,” replied Hermione. “A simple shield charm should be able to stop them if they did, and it wouldn’t explain why there’s half a dozen broomsticks here. Unless they only attack when you walk on the ground, but that’s still not much of a security measure. I mean, every student at Hogwarts can fly on a broom after a couple weeks into their first year, and most non-muggleborns can before they even get here.”

“Are we sure those are actually birds?” interjected George, still staring up at the darting objects.

“I guess not — why?” asked Harry.

“Because in all my many and varied years as a wizard, I’ve never seen birds that shiny. It’s like they’re all polished silver, or something. If they were gold instead of silver, I’d’ve wagered they were Snitches, instead of birds.”

Hermione frowned for a second, before raising her wand towards the far door and saying, “ _Alohomora_.” But the door failed to clicked or swing open. “Well, whatever they are, they must be key to unlocking that door, and the broomsticks must have something to do with it as well."

“Key! That’s it, Hermione! They’re keys!” exclaimed Harry. “We have to fly up there, catch the correct key, and use it to unlock the door.”

“This should be easy,” replied Fred, grabbing a broom and mounting it, and kicking off into the air.

The other three quickly followed suit, and were soon flying around amongst the keys. 

“Harry, high right!” called out George after a few minutes, pointing towards a key fluttering several feet above where Harry was. “Bright blue wings, looks like one of them is bent.”

Harry quickly spotted the one George was talking about. 

“Hermione, Fred, George — surround me and we’ll chase it into that corner over,” he said, taking command of the situation.

The others did as he said, and less than a minute later, they were all landing by the door, the large, old silver key in Harry’s hand. But before he shoved it into the lock, Hermione grabbed his hand to take a closer look at it.

“Didn’t you two say Snape was in the dungeons? And haven’t you been watching him all afternoon?” she asked the twins.

“Yeah, why?”

“Because like you said, this key has a bent wing, and not from Harry grabbing. It’s like it’s already been caught and stuffed in the keyhole, like someone else has already been down here, or is still down here,” she replied. “So if it’s not Snape, who is it? Or did he come down here while Dumbledore was still here, and if so, why hasn’t he given the Stone to Voldemort yet?”

No one had any answers, so after a few seconds, Harry rammed the key into the lock, as the only way they were going to find anything out was by moving further up and further in.

As they stepped into the next room, Hermione added, “Does this all seem too convenient to anyone else? A door that can easily be unlocked by a charm taught in first year. A plant studied by first years. An entire set of broomsticks, when presumably only one person should be after the Stone. And then a door that can’t be unlocked by first-year magic, that they didn’t put in front of Fluffy, and instead requires first-year flying to get the key to. 

“I mean, we’re two first-years and two third-years, and even if we are rather more clever than most, Professor McGonagall told us Voldemort at his strongest couldn’t get this Stone. And the hardest thing we’ve come across so far is Fluffy. Maybe no one outside the school could get in to try to get it, but if they did, this hasn’t exactly been a challenge so far.”

With the same lack of answers as a few moments before, but now with a whole lot more questions, the quartet looked around to see what their next challenge was. 

“It’s a game of chess,” said Fred, stating the obvious as they all stared at the giant chessboard.

“I assume we have to play our way across,” said Harry, wondering how this constituted a security measure, and what type of spells it would take to just destroy everything in the room, and walk through the far passageway. The passageway was completely open, if only the stone chess pieces in front of it were incapacitated. But it was a rather moot point, as he didn't think any of them knew spells for blasting chessmen into smithereens.

Meanwhile, Fred was telling Hermione, “Look, you two know the most about this whole Stone thing, and we’re all much more likely to make it safely across if we only have two at a time playing. So my dearest brother and I will play you two across first, and then we’ll play ourselves across. That way we can hopefully cross everyone over safely, without any of us four getting taken."

“Try taking the King together, and that way there’s no way either of you can get taken so long as we win, which we have to do to pass, anyway,” added George.

“You sure they’ll let us do that?” asked Hermione. “We don’t each have to take a different piece?”

“Only one way to find out,” replied Fred.

“If we can do that, then why don’t all four of us do it, and then we can play across in one game?” suggested Harry sensibly.

So after George asked the King, “Oh King, kind sir, could you please vacate your position from the field of battle?”, and the King silently stepped off the board, Harry, Hermione, and the twins piled onto the now uninhabited slot.

“Well, white always moves first, so they’ll have to start,” said George once they were in place.

A white pawn immediately moved two spots forwards, and the game was afoot. The twins called out moves as the four of them hung out in the King’s spot, Harry and Hermione just watching the game. The twins made them move once or twice, but for the most part they were able to stay in the same square, until eventually the twins used one of their castles to checkmate the opposing king.

The rest of the white pieces stepped to the side, allowing the four of them to run across the board and through the far archway into the passageway beyond. As they stepped into the passage, the chessmen all re-mended and rearranged themselves back on the board behind them, should anyone else decide to come window shopping for a magical rock in the middle of the night.

Coming upon another door, they opened it to find the most rancid smell they’d ever come across, and a knocked out troll. Pulling their robes over their noses to try to block out the stench enough to be able to cross, they scampered through the room as quickly as possible, and opened the far door.

Stepping through, Harry said, “That was a whole lot worse than the one in the bathroom on Halloween. Apparently keeping a troll locked up in a room for a school year doesn’t do anything for their smell.”

“And it also proves someone else is, or has been, down here,” added Hermione seriously.

Once they had all crossed the threshold of the door, a purple fire sprung up in the doorway, as did a black fire in the open doorway moving onwards. Looking around, they found a desk with seven goblets, and a riddle to tell them which one they needed to drink to do what. After Hermione had quickly puzzled it out, Harry took a careful look at the smallest bottle.

“There’s barely enough for one drink, there’s no way we can all go through with this.”

“Set it back down,” said Fred. Once Harry had done so, he pointed his wand at it and said, “ _Geminio_.”

The bottle sprung apart, leaving two identical bottles in its place.

“What was that?” asked Hermione, as Fred and George did again to the two bottles.

“Mom uses it in cooking all the time to increase the quantity of food she already has,” replied George. “It duplicates whatever you cast it at. It’s why all the gnomes in our garden are so fat; we’ve been practicing it on scraps for years, and then giving them all to the gnomes. Makes them easier to catch, and gives them more weight so they’ll travel farther when we throw them out of the garden.”

“The duplicates eventually break down, but for food or drinks that are going to be eaten immediately, it doesn’t really matter,” added Fred.

“Can you do that to _this_ bottle to get us back through the purple flames on our way back, or will it disintegrate too fast?” asked Hermione, moving the round bottle at the right end to the front of the table.

“Unless we’re planning on spending a few weeks down here, it’ll be fine,” replied George.

A few charms later, and they were ready to go. 

“Cheers,” said Harry, and they all clinked their tiny bottles together, before downing the contents in a single gulp.

Passing through the chilly flames and taking in their latest surroundings, the four of them almost gasped.

In fact, Hermione threw one hand over her own mouth and the other over Harry’s just in case they did accidentally make any noise. Because standing in the middle of the room they’d entered, focused on a mirror that was standing there, was their attempting cat burglar. And it wasn’t Severus Snape.

Quirinus Quirrell, their dear, stuttering, joke of aDark Arts teacher, stood there muttering to the mirror, not a stutter to be heard.

After a couple seconds which all of them spent gaping at Quirrell, Harry silently motioned everyone to gather closer to him, and pulled his invisibility cloak back out from his robes, and threw it over them. They all sat down on the floor as close as they could so they couldn't be seen if Quirrell happened to turn around, and the twins lit their wands with the softest whispered _lumos_  humanly possible. 

As quietly as she could, Hermione pulled out a sheet of parchment and a muggle ink pen from inside her robes, and setting it on the stone floor wrote, _We can use this to talk._  

Taking the pen from her, Harry wrote below it,  _Why do you have parchment and a muggle ink pen in your robe?_

_Seriously? You’re going to ask that now?_  She shook her head at him. _I always keep parchment and a pen and quill in my robe, you never know when I might need to jot something down. And a pen won't make as much noise as a quill. And it seems to be a rather good thing I do, doesn’t it???_

_Sorry, just curious_ , replied Harry _. Now what are we going to do about Quirrell?_

_I think the Stone is fake_ , wrote Hermione in return. 

Three pairs of eyebrows rose as they read what she had written. Then six eyes stared at her, waiting for an explanation. Casting a furtive glance at their professor to make sure he was still busy primping or admiring himself or whatever he was doing with the mirror, Hermione started writing.

_Before this, the Stone was stored at Gringotts, well-known to be the safest place to store anything, and it was nearly stolen from there; news that made the Daily Prophet, it was so big. Yet then it was removed to here, where two first-years and two third-years made it this far with no trouble? Something's very wrong with that picture. Either that mirror is stronger than all of Gringotts’ defenses combined, or Dumbledore doesn’t care if that Stone gets stolen. I'm guessing the latter._

_So what do we do?_ wrote Harry. The twins looked at Hermione expectantly as well.

Hermione chewed on her pen for several seconds, thinking hard. Finally setting pen back to paper, she wrote, _We watch and wait._

So that they did for another five to ten minutes, until they heard a noise coming from the direction they'd recently passed through on their way to where they were now. Quirrell was still muttering sweet nothings at the mirror and tapping it with his wand when a tall wizard with billowing robes and a long silver beard burst into the room, looking around. But he clearly expected to see something he didn't, because he just stared around the room for several seconds, rather than look at the man in front of the mirror. Quirrell, for his part, had at least spun to face the incoming storm as soon as he heard the noises, but had apparently also been expecting someone else, as he just stared at the Headmaster as the Headmaster stared around. 

After several long seconds, their stares finally at long last met. 

"Quirrell, Tom," said Dumbledore calmly, his wand by his side but firmly grasped.

The four students stared at each other, wondering who this invisible 'Tom' fellow was, and where he might be hiding.

"Dumbledore," replied Quirrell, as if they were merely discussing the weather. "I thought Harry Potter was supposed to be down here. Haven't you been spending the entire year trying to give him everything he needed to follow me down here? You really weren't nearly as subtle as you thought."

"I will admit I believed he was down here," replied Dumbledore casually. "The wards were set off a second time after you came down, and I didn't see him on my way through, so he really should be in here somewhere."

"And what exactly was your plan, sending the boy down here to face my Master?" asked Quirrell. "You might as well tell me, you're going to send my Master flying away, which will be my death."

"Ah, but Tom will be able to hear," countered Dumbledore. "And why should I alert him to all of my schemes?"

"Then at least answer me this — the stone hidden somewhere in this mirror is a fake, isn't it?" said Quirrell. 

"Of course, of course," answered Dumbledore jovially. "The Flammels died several years back. Once Tom's threat had been ended for the time being the first time around, they got enough elixir to put all their affairs in order, and then moved on to the next great adventure. I replaced the real Stone they kept in Gringotts with a fake immediately afterwards, and destroyed the original. But I figured when Tom eventually returned, the Sorcerer's Stone could make a good bait — as it clearly did."

"Alright then, do what you came here to do," came a higher, bone-chilling voice from Quirrell, even though his lips didn't move. "I should have known better than to believe you would trust the security of the Stone to a kid, even if he is Harry Potter."

The four hidden under the blanket stared at each other, each wondering what this new voice could be. And if it was connected to the 'Tom' they'd heard mentioned several times. 

But before any of them could think too long, Dumbledore flicked his wand at Quirrell and boomed out, " _Expelliarmus Voldemort Spiritus!"_

Suddenly, to the quartet's great astonishment, a swirling tornado of smoke poured out from under the back of Quirrell's turban, before the professor himself fish-flopped to the ground, doing an admirable impression of a corpse. The stream of smoke flew off back the way they'd all came, leaving Harry to wonder how it was going to leave the school without any of the teachers seeing it, although he supposed the fact it was in the middle of the night would probably help. 

Dumbledore watched the wraith disappear for several seconds, before turning back to Quirrell's body. He waved his wand at it and muttered, " _Evanesco_ ", and the body disappeared. Then he looked around the room again slowly, before eventually strolling out of the room. The quartet waited several minutes to make sure the Headmaster had really left, before pulling off the cloak and standing up. 

"We need to get back to the common room before anyone discovers we're gone," said Harry before anyone else could speak.

The rest nodded in agreement, and they quickly headed back towards the entrance. 

In just about every room they went through at least on thing had vanished. The flames didn't appear in the first room when they crossed the threshold, although the table with all the goblets, including the four return-trip drinks they'd created, was still there. The troll had vanished from the following room, along with the smell. The chessmen were all still there, but lined up against the walls, posing no threat. While the keys still fluttered and the brooms remained in the next room, the door stood blasted wide open. And lastly, the Devil's Snare was burnt to char, crispy-style, at the bottom of the trapdoor hole. 

As they'd crossed through the key room, they'd all grabbed a broom, and so mounted them when they got to the bottom of the hole. They quickly flew up and popped out the hole in the third floor corridor, landing next to Fluffy. Or rather, where Fluffy should have been. In the wee beastie's place was a vast nothingness, almost as scary in its nothingness as Fluffy was in his snarlingness and toothiness. Almost. 

The map-carrying twin quickly pulled out the Marauders' Map from inside his robes, as Harry threw the invisibility cloak back over them, and they scurried undetected back to the Gryffindor common room. Finally safe, they all collapsed into the chairs and couch by the fireplace, thankful for the night's adventures to finally be over, and to finally be able to speak freely again. 

Harry was the first to do so. "Did you see that mirror down there? That was the Mirror of Erised, that Dumbledore told me about that day I had my detention changed at the last minute."

"The one that shows you your heart's desire?" asked Hermione. "How would that help hide the Stone? I mean, sure, if you were trying to get the Stone before Quirrell it might show you getting the Stone, but how would that actually help you get the Stone from wherever it was hidden without Quirrell seeing you? All the mirror does is show you something, it can't give you anything. Plus, I'm sure Quirrell wanted more than anything in the world to get the Stone, as well."

"And your realization that the stone down there was fake was correct, too," added Harry. "Well done on that."

"Is no one going to talk about the fact Voldemort was hiding under Quirrell's turban?" asked Fred. "Unless there's some other evil ghost out there looking for immortality, named a much more chill ‘Tom'."

"Explains why Quirrell never took his turban off," added George. "And I guess 'Tom' is apparently Voldy's given name — Voldemort is a bit of an odd name to name your child, after all."

"You know, I just thought of something," said Fred suddenly. "We bounced snowballs off the back of Quirrell's turban on Christmas. Apparently we were actually having a snowball fight with Voldy himself!"

"That's brilliant!" replied Harry, laughing. 

"Yes, it's funny, but I think it's a little more important that we consider the fact that Dumbledore _planned_ on Harry being down, and even Quirrell expected it," interjected Hermione seriously before the twins' story could snowball out of control. "That's terrible, putting a first year in the darkest wizard of our age's path!"

"He had to have had some reason to believe I'd survive, didn't he? I mean, he didn't actually risk the Sorcerer's Stone, surely he wasn't actually going to risk me, either,” replied Harry, almost as if he was trying to convince himself of what he was saying.

"I don't know, but even more important than that might be why it was _you_ he tried to manipulate into facing Voldemort, and not anyone else in the world," continued Hermione. "Myself and the twins were just collateral damage, it was _you_ he wanted down there. _Why?_ "

"Well that's easy, isn't it?" replied twin number one. "Harry defeated Voldemort as a baby, so Dumbledore probably believes he can do it again now that Voldy's back."

"Yeah, I'm sure a lot of other people would believe the same thing if they knew or believed Voldemort was still around," added twin number two. 

"But how did I do it the first time?" replied Harry. "And shouldn't it be someone else's turn this time? And anyway, what was Dumbledore doing just letting Voldemort escape like that? He just stood there and watched the most evil wizard of our time leave."

"Yeah, why didn't he just kill him, and end this war?" added Hermione. "And he knew Quirrell was Voldemort when he walked in. Has he known all year, and just let Voldemort keep teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts like it was no big deal?"

"And you two thought it was Snape because he was getting on Quirrell's case during the year. Well, flip things around, and doesn't it seem likely Snape suspected Quirrell all along?" asked Fred.

Without any actual answers to these questions, all the four of them could do was speculate. And so speculate they did, spending another couple hours going over everything that had happened and they had heard that evening, until eventually sleep overtook them where they sat talking.


	6. Chapter 6

The following morning when Ron walked into the Gryffindor common room, he found the twins sprawled out in an armchair apiece, and Harry and Hermione lying in a tangled heap on the couch, looking more like a two headed, eight-limbed bushy-haired fantastic beast than two first-year Hogwarts students.

Ron had received an owl a few days earlier from his mum telling him to invite the great Harry Potter to come visit the Burrow sometime during the summer. She thought that since they were in the same grade, he'd be the best of her children to ask. So Ron had gotten up early that morning in hopes of catching Harry before he left their dorm room and joined the Know-it-all for whatever they would be doing now that classes were finally over; probably still studying, if he knew anything at all about the Bookworm. But Harry wasn't there when Ron stirred long before the break of dawn and when any reasonable person would awaken during the summer, to sunlight streaming into his face, a little after eight thirty.

Deciding since he was already awake he'd go ahead and get up and try to somehow get Harry alone, Ron had arisen and quickly changed, before descending the spiral staircase to the common room. Where he found the aforementioned scene playing out on the couch in front of him.

"Oi! What are you doing?" he exclaimed loudly at Harry's sleeping body, rendering it, and the three other bodies in the nearby vicinity, no longer in that state. "I'm supposed to be inviting you to come visit us this summer!"

Harry looked up blearily at the youngest school-aged redhead, blinking his eyes sleepily, trying to fully awaken.

"What does you asking Harry to visit have to do with Harry sleeping on the couch?" asked Hermione confusedly, echoing what Harry had been trying to think in his muddled, still-sleepy brain.

Ron stuttered, clearly not expecting a kind of inquisition that early in the morning.

"W-well, how am I supposed to ask Harry if he's not alone? And anyway, what are you doing so close to him in the first place? He's my little sister's!"

That woke everyone up in a right hurry.

"He's _what_?" demanded Hermione in a tone that clearly said run-and-hide-for-your-life, which Ron apparently didn't get, because he didn't run and hide for his life.

Instead, he opened his mouth to presumably tell her just what Harry was when one of the twins jumped up and jumped in. "Okay, okay, okay. Why don't you just mosey on along, dear little brother of ours, and we'll handle this before you jam that foot of yours any further down your throat." Literally pushing Ron towards the portrait hole he continued, "Go on, there you go, go get breakfast, I'm sure all the food's just waiting on you to go eat it..."

Once the portrait was safely shut behind Ron, the still sitting twin said apologetically, "Sorry about that. I suppose we probably should have told you about that earlier, we just didn't think it would come up until summer or next year, so there wasn't any hurry. We didn't realize Ron would open his big mouth."

The standing twin sat back down in his armchair, continuing, "You see, ever since we can remember, our dearest mum, bless her heart, has been telling our younger sister, Ginny, that she'll grow up to marry a hero one day — specifically you, since you're the only child hero around. Now, I suppose it might be normal enough for a mother to tell her daughter she'll grow up to marry a great wizard one day — it's not like we have another mum to compare her to — but mum's taken it the extra step of making it a specific person."

"We really were going to warn you, we just didn't think it would be of any use yet," added the other twin.

"She's been telling your sister she'd marry Harry one day?" repeated Hermione in complete, utter, dazed, stunned, astonished, astounded, disbelieving disbelief.

"Usually not in such words exactly, but she's always made sure Ginny knew everything there was to know about Harry, and then encouraged the fangirling that naturally emerges from that. Combine that with telling her she'll marry a hero one day, and well, you do the math."

"But what about Harry!?" exclaimed Hermione, outraged. "What about what _he_ wants? He's already been stripped of a magical childhood, is he going to be stripped of marrying whomever he wants as well!?"

"Hey, don't yell at us," said George, throwing up his hands in defense. "We've never encouraged any such thing, but you have to understand that there's no disagreeing with our mum in her house if you like keeping your eardrums, which we just so happen to. But like I said, we planned on warning you before you had to start dealing with it, we just didn't expect Ron to spit it out so soon. We didn't even know for sure if he payed enough attention to know about it."

"Okay, okay, it's not your fault," replied Hermione slightly mollified. "But that's still completely absurd of your mum."

"Believe us — we completely agree with you there."

* * *

A few hours later, Harry and Hermione were walking into the Great Hall together for an early lunch when Professor McGonagall came sweeping up to them.

"Mr Potter, the Headmaster would like to have a word with you after you finish lunch," she said.

Harry automatically turned to Hermione, who nodded in encouragement. So Harry turned back to their Head of House and said, "Okay, but Hermione comes, too."

Hermione looked at him in surprise, but Professor McGonagall simply nodded and said, "He'll be waiting for you in his office. Go to the gargoyle on the third floor and tell it 'Cauldron Cakes'."

Then she swept away, leaving Harry and Hermione standing in the middle of the entrance to the Great Hall.

"You didn't have to invite me," said Hermione as they walked over to the Gryffindor table. "I wasn't trying to ask you to do that when I nodded at you, I was just saying you should go, and try to get some answers for us."

"I know, but I'd prefer having you there," replied Harry. "After all, we are a team."

A while later, the two of them strolled up to the gargoyle on the third floor, and Harry said, "Cauldron Cakes."

The gargoyle sprung to the side and the wall split in two, revealing a spiraling staircase behind it. Riding it up, Harry and Hermione found a landing and a heavy oak door. Knocking on it, they were immediately bid entrance.

"Ah, Harry, good to see you my boy!" said the Headmaster jovially as he saw the two of them walk in. "And you too, Miss Granger. What I need to discuss with Harry will relate to you, as well."

Harry and Hermione each gave a polite, "Hello, Headmaster," before sitting down in the chairs across the desk from Dumbledore.

"Please, just call me Dumbledore," replied the Headmaster cheerfully. "Now I wanted to talk to you before you left for the summer about some special requirements considering your living arrangements when you're not here, Harry," continued the silver-haired wizard, looking at Harry. "I know you have become very close to Miss Granger here, and stayed with her over Christmas. And I could understand, given growing up in your relatives' home, that the two of you might have entertained the idea of you staying with the Grangers over the summer as well, since the two of you are next-door neighbors."

This wasn't something Harry had thought about at all, but it _was_ something Hermione had thought about more than once over the past few weeks as the end of school wound down, even though it wasn't something she had talked to Harry about at all.

"Unfortunately, I'm afraid I can't allow you two to do that, though," continued Dumbledore, quashing Hermione's renewed thoughts. "In order to keep you physically safe from certain evil forces that wish to do you harm, you need to still call your aunt and uncle's house home during the summers. Therefore, I must ask that you still live at your aunt and uncle's house while you are on Privet Drive. I know it makes no sense to you now, but you will understand why later.

"However, you can spend as much time with Miss Granger as you like over the summer, and I strongly encourage it. I know you've been abused at your relatives house, and so I was very pleased to hear that Miss Granger had moved next door to you. And I do not think you will have to stay on Privet Drive all summer, either. Mrs Weasley, the twins' mother, has asked about you coming over to her house during the summer, and while that is acceptable, it needs to be after at least a fortnight of staying at your aunt and uncle's house."

Looking back and forth between them, he finished with, "Do either of you have any questions?"

Hermione had a million, including whether Dumbledore knew about Mrs Weasley's ongoing attempts at arranged marriaging Harry, but she knew better than to actually ask any of them. She didn't know exactly the extent of Dumbledore's manipulation into things outside the Stone, so best not to let him suspect that she suspected anything at all for the time being.

And since her only question regarding what he'd just said was 'Why?', and he clearly wasn't going to answer that, she just shook her head.

Harry did the same, just thankful he would only have to spend the nights at his relations', before suddenly blurting out, "Sir, why did you set me up to face Voldemort?"

A look of surprise flittered across Dumbledore's features for a split second, before he schooled them to a look of mild curiosity. "So you know about that, do you? Well done. And to answer your question, seeing as how Voldemort tried to kill you as a baby, I thought you had the right to face him again." He paused for a second, before asking, "Any other questions?"

"Why did Voldemort try to kill Harry as a baby?" asked Hermione bluntly.

Dumbledore let out a long sigh, before replying gravely, "Alas — the one question I cannot answer. Not yet, anyway. One day I will tell you, when you are older—"

"You'll have him face Voldemort, but not tell him why facing Voldemort is even something that could possibly happen?" exclaimed Hermione in disbelief. Harry looked at her in shock — Hermione Granger never interrupted a professor, and certainly never yelled at them.

"I am sorry, and I know you hate to hear this, but both of you are too young to deal with that at the moment. But in a few years—"

"Too young!? You wanted him to face the most dangerous wizard in generations, who most adult wizards refuse to even say his name they're so scared of him, but Harry's 'too young' to know why Voldemort's after him in the first place?" yelled Hermione vehemently. At some point she'd leapt up from her chair, and now stood towering over the Headmaster; or at least as much towering as a twelve year-old could, which meant she was about the same height as Dumbledore was sitting down.

Dumbledore leaned forwards with his elbows on his desk and his fingers pressed together, and studied the pair for several seconds, clearly debating something, before finally leaning back with another sigh.

"I still think twelve and not quite twelve is too young to hear this, but since you are so determined to hear it now, and I will eventually have to tell you anyway — okay. I will tell you."

Hermione sat back down, before leaning forwards eagerly. She might have been angry at the Headmaster for trying to refuse information that was rightfully Harry's, but she was still excited to learn something new, even if she had to pull teeth to get it. And his willingness to change his mind about telling them mollified her somewhat as well.

Looking mostly at Harry, Dumbledore began, "Voldemort tried to kill you when you were a child because of a prophecy made shortly before your birth. He thought by killing you that he would come out ahead of the prophecy, but to his great detriment, he had only heard part of the prophecy. So instead of taking care of the prophecy like he thought he was, he actually made the prophecy real, to his great downfall — both on the night he unsuccessfully attempted to kill you, and his eventual permanent demise at some point in the future."

At this point Dumbledore stood up, and walked over to a black cabinet on the edge of the room, behind where a phoenix sat primly on its perch. He pulled out a shallow stone basin, and walked back over and placed it on the desk betwixt them.

"I assume you recognize what this is, Miss Granger?" he asked.

"It's a pensieve. It's used for viewing memories, especially stored memories."

"Correct as always, Miss Granger," Dumbledore replied proudly. "But in this case, we shall being viewing a memory I prefer to keep inside my head for safekeeping."

He then raised his wand to his own temple and withdrew silvery, gossamer-fine strands of thought, depositing them into the basin. Prodding the silvery substance with his wand, an unusual figure, draped in shawls and with eyes magnified enormously by her glasses, rose out of it, revolving slowly. When she spoke, it was in a harsh, hoarse tone.

" _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives...the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…_ "

As the figure faded back into the silver mass, Dumbledore looked back over at Harry and Hermione. "There is neither time, nor is this the time, for a full explanation of exactly what the prophecy is saying, but what it comes down to is that the person Voldemort marked, which was done when he gave you _that_ scar, will have the power to kill Voldemort for good one day. Voldemort tried to kill you first, but in the end only made you the person who would one day kill him."

Harry and Hermione sat processing all this information for several seconds, before Hermione blurted out, "But how did Harry survive Voldemort the first time? That he did is in all the history books, but none of them explain how."

"When Voldemort went to kill you, Harry, he first encountered your father in the hallway, who tried to hold off Voldemort long enough for Lily to escape with you. After killing James, Voldemort then found your mother upstairs in the nursery with you, where she begged Voldemort to kill her instead of you. After killing her, he then tried to kill you, but since Lily sacrificed her life to save you, the spell rebounded off of you and hit him, destroying his body and leaving his spirit to wander the earth.

"It also made it impossible for Voldemort, or anyone Voldemort is possessing, to physically touch you without suffering severe burns, because something so evil cannot come in contact with something protected by such love. And finally, as long as you are living somewhere where Lily's blood still flows, namely your aunt's house, Voldemort cannot harm you there."

Harry stared at Dumbledore in shock, hearing for the first time exactly what had happened to his parents, and how he had survived when they hadn't. But Hermione's brow was furrowed, like she was trying to figure something out.

"But that doesn't make any sense," she said slowly after a few seconds. "I mean, why wasn't Lily saved by James's sacrifice, like Harry was by Lily's? And why had it never happened before? I can't believe that there has never been a single person before James to sacrifice their life in an attempt to save someone else's. There has to be some other reason the curse rebounded off of Harry.

"Maybe Voldemort not being able to touch Harry could have come from Lily's sacrifice, as well as James's, since it's completely possible that Voldemort couldn't have physically touched Lily without the same thing happening after James's sacrifice, just no one ever found out since Voldemort didn't try to touch her, he just killed her.

"And the same could go with the protection at Harry's aunt's house, since James _obviously_ didn't have any blood family left for the home protection to work on, or Harry would have been sent _there_ , instead of with his abusive muggle relations. But Harry surviving Voldemort's curse can't have been because of Lily's sacrifice — at least not alone."

Dumbledore leaned forward with his fingertips pressed together again, looking at Hermione curiously. After several long seconds he finally said, "Many of my fellow professors have been commenting all year on how bright you are, Miss Granger — it seems I would have to agree with them. And perhaps you are right. Perhaps it was something other than Lily's sacrifice that protected Harry that night ten and a half years ago. Surviving killing curses is a rather inexact magic after all, as Harry is the only one to have ever done it."

* * *

Over the following two weeks, Harry and Hermione enjoyed their freedom of being able to explore Hogwarts without any schoolwork to worry about. Hermione even limited her reading to a few hours in the afternoon under their tree by the lake and a couple hours at night, and only visited the library every other day. The twins, with the help of their map of marauding, showed Harry and Hermione all the secret passages of the school that the two younger students hadn't discovered yet, to better prepare them for their second year at the magical school.

A week after their last exam, results came out. Hermione of course had the best grades of their year, but Harry was a close second. The twins continued their success of passing well enough that no one was concerned, but not so well anyone would form any undue scholarly expectations of them. After all, they had enough expectations to be going on with in the pranks and jokes realm to get caught up in scholarly expectations as well.

The last evening of term was the End-of-Term Feast. As Harry and Hermione walked in, they found the place decked out in the red and gold of Gryffindor. Between all the points Hermione had earned them in class, and Draco limiting the midnight wandering point loss differential to a mere twenty points, along with all the other points earned and lost by everyone else in the school, Gryffindor had won the House Cup for the first time in seven years.

The following morning, they rode the Hogwarts Express back to London. Saying goodbye to the twins, Harry and Hermione stepped through the barrier together back into the muggle world, where they quickly spotted Hermione's parents standing off a bit to the side, watching with curiosity as the rest of the young witches and wizards met up with their families. As Harry started to look around to find his uncle, who usually stood out quite easily, Hermione grabbed his hand and pulled him towards her parents.

"I owled mum and dad to tell your relatives that my parents could pick you up as well since they'd already be here to pick me up, instead of your relatives having to make the trip here, too," she whispered in his ear as they walked over.

But before they'd made it halfway across the platform, a high-pitched young female voice exclaimed loudly from the other side of the platform, "There he is, Mum, look, there he is!"

Harry and Hermione turned to find numerous heads across the platform, both magical and muggle, turned towards him. Locating the source of the yelling, they saw a young female redhead standing next to an older, fat female redhead, who could only be the two female Weasleys.

The girl was pointing at Harry, and as soon as he had turned mostly in her direction squealed, "Harry Potter! Look, Mum! I can see Harry Potter!"

Very briefly closing her eyes in exasperation, Hermione turned back around and pulled Harry with her, and resumed their journey to her parents. They had just made it up to Hermione's parents when the rotund woman came bustling over to them as fast as she could. As soon as she was almost close enough to them to not have to shout, she began introducing herself without invitation.

"Hi! I'm Molly Weasley, but you can just call me Molly. I'm Ron and the twins' mom!"

Harry and Hermione turned back around to face her, and could see the twins rushing over from behind her, mouthing, " _Sorry!_ "

"Now I know Dumbledore won't let you come over immediately, but he did say you could come over to our house later in the summer, to get away from your muggle relatives, since you have no where else to go," she continued, ignoring the fact that her entire audience was just standing there staring at her.

Harry and Hermione were floored anyone could be so bossy and interfering, while Mr and Mrs Granger were wondering who this woman was that apparently knew about Harry's living conditions, but apparently didn't consider _them_ to be a worthwhile place for Harry to go, either.

Hermione quickly took over.

"Thank you for your gracious offer, Mrs Weasley," she said politely. "Harry and I will certainly consider it. We'll owl the twins later in the summer to let you know."

She finished with a charming smile before turning back to her parents and silently and subtly motioned for them to start moving.

Unseen behind them as they started to walk off, the matron Weasley had tried to start following them and say something more, but was stopped by the twins stepping in front of her.

"Let them go, Mum. Anyway, Ron and Percy are waiting to say hi to you."

Reluctantly she acquiesced, and headed back to her own family.

Outside, the Grangers and Harry were climbing into the Grangers' car to head back to Privet Drive.

"So...did you two have a fun term?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Book 1 finished. On indefinite hiatus. Not abandoned, and brought to a logical pausing point, but any future updates will be slow coming.


End file.
